I have always been incredibly shy. I don't know why, exactly. Partly it was because I was an only child, spending too much time alone in a big house. When I was about six I got glasses, ugly horn-rimmed glasses, and was mortified having to wear them to school.

All the kids made fun of me, of course, and in my discomfort I withdrew, becoming shy and withdrawn. I spent as much of my time by myself as I could while growing up. Eventually I hit puberty, but it wasn't soon, and it did not hit very hard.

When I was sixteen, I still looked like a thirteen year old. I was short and had a very slim body. My breasts were quite small, and my bottom quite boyish.

I had large blue eyes and a small nose. But my face was rather cute. In fact, without my glasses, I was really pretty good looking. That didn't make me proud, however. It embarrassed me. I was sixteen and I looked like a really cute little thirteen year old.

I did have nice hair. It was rich and thick and long silky and very deliciously golden blonde. I did very little with it, though, for I had long since involved myself in fairly bookish pursuits and disdained the kinds of games of hair and makeup most girls my age relished. And so it was straight, if nicely so thanks to casual efforts with a blow dryer, and quite unfashionably long.

I didn't think about sex much, if at all. I read a lot of books, but they were almost all the classics, along with some modern fantasy and horror. I didn't read those weepy romance novels for I had always dismissed them - and their readership - as silly.

I did think about boys, of course, but it was pretty innocent. I thought about kissing them, and possibly hugging them. I didn't really know what else was done, other than embarrassing groping and things like that, which I was far too embarrassed to really want to explore.

I was somewhat embarrassed of my body. I knew the girls the guys were after were the ones with the big round breasts, and that certainly wasn't me. The thought of letting some boy see me naked was too embarrassing to even contemplate.

I now realize that part of this came from an experience I had when I was thirteen. It was during the first few weeks of my life in junior high, and I, like a lot of other young girls, was forced, for the first time ever, to shower in public.

I skipped gym class a number of times, finally getting into trouble for it. I was forced to go to class, and then, afterwards, had to take a shower along with all the other girls.

By then they'd all done it several times, and were a little used to it, but I was mortified, especially since I had hardly developed at all.

Naturally, several of the bigger girls, bullies, noticed this, and taunted me on my flatness and how I looked like a "little girl". That was bad enough, of course, but then, just to add more fun to their lives, two of them grabbed me after I came out of the shower, dragged me to the door, and threw me out into the hallway naked.

There were a lot of people out in the hall, and of course I was utterly humiliated, mortified. I had tried to get back in but the girls held the door closed against me while the people out in the hall laughed and giggled, especially the boys.

Eventually a couple of the older boys forced the door open, and I was able to squirm inside and hide myself away. I skipped school for a week afterwards, but my parents eventually forced me to go back.

But my embarrassment over my body probably became pretty near total then, which added to the shyness I already felt to make me a very withdrawn child.

With unfortunate timing my body began to sprout not long after, making up - almost - for lost time. My breasts grew into a small, but very nice 34-B cup. My hips widened somewhat, and even my behind become somewhat more rounded. I certainly didn't for a moment believe I was beautiful, but many apparently thought me a very attractive girl with a slender but attractive body, a pretty face, and long, lovely hair.

Because of this my shyness was interpreted by many as aloofness and some of them were quite snippy and insulting because of this. Naturally that only contributed to my sense of withdrawal.

So by eighteen I was friendless, unhappy, and wondering what I was supposed to do about it all. I found it hard to concentrate on stuff at school, and my marks suffered. I started skipping school, preferring to be off on my own somewhere, walking through the mall, or the woods, or just watching TV at home.

My parents decided to send me to a psychiatrist, and that was how I came to meet Doctor Venn.

Doctor Venn was a large, burly, middle-aged man with a thick, bushy beard, and round glasses. I didn't really want to see him, but was not given the choice. And I think deep inside me I hoped it might result in something good, for I was certainly not happy in my life.

At first all we talked about were simple things, like what TV shows and movie stars I liked, what kind of clothes I liked to wear, where I liked to go, what I dreamed of doing some day. Gradually, though, after a few visits, he started working in closer to things I was uncomfortable in talking about.

He was always very sympathetic, however, and didn't judge what I did, or tell me I was wrong, and, well, he was a doctor, you see, so, I suppose I kind of trusted him with things I wouldn't have said to my parents or anyone else.

I told him about the time the girls had thrown me naked out into the hall, for example, which wasn't something I'd ever told my parents. It was a little embarrassing, but he didn't seem shocked or judgemental, and that made it seem almost natural, not something to be embarrassed about.

That led him to asking how I felt about my body, whether I was ashamed of it, and somehow I wound up telling him how I felt like I was ugly, especially compared to the buxom girls I went to school with, the girls with their hourglass figures and drop dead looks.

I wound up telling him also about how I felt embarrassed with my glasses, how I'd always felt they set me apart. He had me take them off, and asked if I felt better without them. I said I did, except I couldn't see.

Then he made a judgement, the first I'd heard him make since I'd been coming to him.

"Caroline," he said. "I will give you my honest judgment as a man, not as your psychiatrist, or anyone related to you such as your parents, but my honest judgment, and that is that you are a quite pretty young lady."

I blushed when he said that, feeling as though he was merely saying that, trying to make me feel better about myself.

"Have you ever considered contact lenses?" he asked.

"My parents say they cost too much," I sighed.

"And I suppose laser surgery is out for the same reason. Though, really, your glasses aren't that bad. They're not thick, for example, and the frames seem to be quite stylish."

I snorted.

"I want you to do something when you go home."

"What?"

"I want you to remove all your clothes, stand in front of your mirror, and look at your body. And I want you to say aloud "I am an attractive young woman."

I blushed even more deeply then before.

"There is nothing whatsoever about the human body to be ashamed of, and I feel this insecurity you have is partly linked to your belief that there is something embarrassing about your body."

"I'm not... embarrassed...exactly," I said.

"There are men, Caroline, who would look at you, clothed or unclothed, and whose lust would drive them to desperate lengths in an effort to make love with you."

I scrunched up my face in disgust, but also embarrassment. And, of course, I didn't believe him, at least, not really.

But I did as he told me to do. I stood naked in front of my mirror and told myself I was attractive. I didn't think so. My breasts were too small, and when I slid my hands behind my head, like some of those women in the magazines, I could see the outline of my ribs below them.

For of course, I had somehow placed the ideal of feminine beauty on those buxom plastic creatures of the men's magazines, and on the air brushed super models and perfectly made up actresses. I did not feel I measured up to them.

That visit, however proved to be quite profitable. The psychiatrist was somehow able to persuade my parents to pay for laser surgery. I felt almost normal now, and yet somehow also very strange. I was used to reaching up to my glasses all the time, and now when I did that I only touched my cheek.

I was a bit embarrassed about going to school without my glasses, because I didn't want people to notice me, to look at me and talk to me. A number of them did, though, and even though they said I looked nice I was quiet, wondering if they were just teasing me, if they were only saying it so they could laugh at me later.

When I went back to Doctor Venn's his receptionist Maria noticed right away, and said I looked "adorable".

"Oh, please," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"You do!" she insisted.

Well, I went into Doctor Venn's office then, and he told me I looked pretty, then we started talking about how I felt without glasses, and about my embarrassment at being noticed at school.

He then asked me if I'd stood naked in front of the mirror liked he asked. That embarrassed me, but I nodded.

"You have your own room, correct?"

I nodded.

"You spend a lot of time there from what your parents say."

I shrugged.

"I want you to spend a couple of hours naked."

"What?" I gulped, turning red.

"You may lock the door. There's nobody to see you but you. I want you to grow accustomed to your body, to not be embarrassed by it."

"But... well... I'll get cold," I gulped.

"Turn up the heat."

 

I felt a little... dirty, even though Doctor Venn had told me to do it. My parents thought sex was wicked and nasty, and nudity was the same as sex... well almost. I kept my dressing gown ready to throw on if they knocked, but they didn't.

I still felt guilty, like they must somehow know I was in here walking around utterly completely NAKED. When I moved my arms they sometimes brushed over my breasts, and when I sat I felt the cool wood of the chair against my pussy.

I finally had to put my clothes on. Not only was it wicked to be walking around naked but I found I was kind of feeling a little - aroused sometimes, and that was terribly wrong!

When I met Doctor Venn again I lied and told him I had walked around naked, but he knew right away I was lying, and he slowly drew the truth out of me.

That left me hideously embarrassed, of course, admitting that I had felt myself getting - excited, just by being naked. I was afraid he would call me a slut. I certainly felt like one.

I wondered if maybe I was a nymphomaniac. I wasn't quite sure what that was but thought it was something to do with girls who liked sex.

The whole conversation turned to sex, then, and my feelings about it, which was incredibly embarrassing. Doctor Venn didn't like that I got excited just by being naked, but he said that I should get used to my body in order to raise my low self-image.

And then he said.

"Do you feel you have the need to be punished for being nude, for being excited?"

I nodded.

"Have you considered telling your parents? Confessing these feelings of lust to them?"

"No!" I gasped.

The idea of telling my parents anything about sex was horrifying!

"Would you feel better if I punished you? Or perhaps Miss Gonzalez?"

"I... I... guess," I said.

I trusted him, after all, and Maria had seemed nice.

"What kind of punishment do you think would be proper?"

"I don't know," I said, squirming in embarrassment.

"What method do your parents use to punish you?"

"They don't really," I said.

I was pretty obedient.

"They used to spank me," I said without thinking.

"Is that what you would like me to do? Or Miss Gonzalez?"

I blushed deeply.

"Do you think it would make you feel better if you were punished?"

I thought for a moment. It would make me feel less guilty.

I nodded.

"Would you like Miss Gonza..."

"No!" I exclaimed.

Maria was always nice to me when I had to wait out in the reception room and - and it was almost like she was a girl -not a friend really, but - at least -. I just didn't want her thinking I was a silly child.

He nodded very calmly, as though understanding.

"Come here, Caroline."

I got up, my knees feeling quite weak, and came over to the chair he was sitting in.

"Why don't you lay across my lap?"

I felt a knot of tension in my belly, fear of pain, embarrassment as well, and also - also - something else. I just wasn't quite sure what it was.

I obeyed him, laying across his lap. I gave a gasp as I felt him lift my skirt up, and felt a new wave of embarrassment as he saw my panties.

"Are you sorry for being a bad girl?" he asked.

"Yes," I gulped breathlessly.

His hand slapped against my behind and I yelped in pain. Again it slapped down, then again, then again, a little harder. I moaned and yelped and jerked on his lap, the embarrassment slowly fading and being replaced by pain, a hot burning pain in my behind.

There was something else there too, though, a kind of buzzing sensation in my head, a kind of awe and shocked elation, though I knew not what for, and for a moment I felt, I don't know, content, natural, free.

His hand cracked down again and again, giving me a number of hard slaps. Then he helped me stand up. I blinked back tears.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

"Thank me then. Remember your manners."

"Thank you, sir," I gulped.

"For what?"

"For...for spanking me."

"Say it in one sentence."

"Thank you for spanking me, sir," I said, a little confused.

"You're most welcome, Caroline."

We talked a little more about sex, and how I felt towards it, and nudity. Then he ordered me to be naked whenever I was in my room alone.

I obeyed him this time, though I felt guilty and dirty doing it. And I kept feeling almost aroused, though not quite. But as I moved around my room naked I felt, well, sexual. I mean, the only reason you were naked was to have a bath or for sex, and I wasn't having a bath.

I confessed this to him on my next visit, even though I knew he'd spank me again. I knew I deserved to be spanked, and was honestly worried that I might be perverted or something, like maybe a nymphomaniac.

"This is most troubling," he said. "How do you expect to marry and have children one day when you are so embarrassed about your own nudity? How will you be able to allow your husband or lover to see you naked?"

"I don't know," I said miserably.

For the truth was I couldn't imagine ever having sex with a man because I couldn't imagine daring to let him see me naked, and letting him touch me and grope me, and letting him...well..do that thing I'd seen in health class, where he put his thing into me.

Do you trust me, Caroline?"

"Yes, sir," I said, for I really did.

"Do you think I would make fun of you or ridicule you?"

"No," I said.

"What I would like to try is for you to remove your clothes here in front of me."

"What?" I gasped, my face flaming red instantly.

"Well, I am a doctor, after all, Caroline," he said with a soft tolerant smile. "I've seen many nude people before."

"But...but I..."

"You do remove your clothes when being examined by a doctor, don't you?"

"Well...well yes - ."

And was horribly embarrassed each time, too. I was putting off my first gynaecological exam, for the very idea of that was horrifying.

"I think this would benefit you greatly. You'd find yourself more relaxed about your body, and less caring about its shape. I think this would lead to more confidence."

"But...but...but what if...if someone came in!?" I asked desperately.

"We'll lock the door if you like, but Miss Gonzalez has never interrupted one of our sessions."

"I...I'm not sure I can!" I gulped.

"It will depend on whether you trust me or not Caroline. You said you trusted me."

"Well...well I do but...I...I don't - ."

"Stand."

I slowly stood up.

"How about if I leave the room while you get undressed? Would that make you feel any better?"

Without waiting for an answer he got up and walked out of the room. I stared at the door in despair. I didn't want to take off my clothes! But I felt like I had no choice. I didn't want him to think I didn't trust him. And I didn't want to be disobedient either!

I was getting a panic attack, sweating, my skin tingling unpleasantly so I had to scratch everywhere. I looked at the door, then slowly reached to the buttons in the front of my shirt and undid them.

I'd worn jeans this time, because I had figured when Doctor Venn spanked me he wouldn't see my panties then. Now I was going to be naked!

I took off my blouse, then undid my jeans and unzipped them. I pushed them down and stepped out of them, then put them on the chair. I stood there in my underwear for a moment, then undid my bra, and hoped that would be enough.