« Spanking Stories

"Oh, Tom!" Hannah exclaimed as she sprang off the couch and flung herself into his arms. "Thank you. Thank you. I love you," she whispered into his hard chest.

"Will you still love me, when I punish you?" he challenged.

Both his hands slipped down to cup her bottom.

"Yes, I will. I'll love you more. Punish me. Make it hurt. I deserve it. Please cane me," she asked straight.

"We'll have to get one first," he said.

"Ah. You haven't got to chapter ten yet. The reason the book was in the hotel room is because the owner put it there. I'm guessing it's a woman. Alice wrote the opening words in that hotel," she explained.

"Enterprising," he commented.

"Not only was the book in the wardrobe, but on top there was a cane. It had a label saying the hotel would charge it to room service. So I took it."

Never more pleased with her impulsiveness, she rushed through the double lounge doors, her socks skidding on the hardwood floor, and headed into the bedroom.

Returning, she handed him the cane. Presenting him with the implement he would use to punish her, drew her mind to strict order. She stood in front of him, her hands by her sides, while he examined the cane.

"You understand this is going to be painful and leave marks on your bottom?" he asked.

"The pain, and the marks, will pass in time. I want them both. I want you to see me take my punishment and feel my regret."

He'd never seen her so determined. Knowing she faced certain pain, his respect for her soared.

"When you make me bend over, I'll feel humble and ashamed. But that very shame will go to work on me, even before you give me the strokes I deserve." She grinned. "It's proportionate and reasonable. I guess you know why I was so tired now."

He returned her grin. "I do, and I'll make you pay a fair price for your pleasure. Grab a magazine," he said, "let's practice and make sure I won't do it too hard."

Cosmopolitan had never been so useful. She picked it off the side table and followed his tight jeans to their bedroom. It turned her on. Her man was preparing to punish her. He would do it hard and it would hurt. It must. His firm, round bum had never looked so manly.

He got her pillow, the thicker one, and balanced it at a slant, half over the edge of the bed. She could see he'd paid attention as he ran his finger across the middle to make an aim line. It seemed fitting it should be her pillow getting caned. She smiled at her silly thought as he lined up the cane, took the magazine from her and gripped it against his side with his elbow.

She had deja vu. This exact scene had played out in her mind when she'd read Alice's description. The pillow deadened the hard crack, but a shiver of reality still traversed her spine. In a moment, it would be her bottom receiving that impact.

"She's right," he said. "A flick of the wrist is all it takes."

He sounded expert, and she loved his admiration for Alice. He tried again. The magazine fell from his arm and the cane hit harder. They both heard the heavy impact on the pillow.

"You'll need to behave much worse to feel it that hard," he said, picking up the magazine.

It reassured her to know he could, and would, cane her much harder if she needed it.

"Last chance to back out," he said.

"I need to pee," she half whispered, disappearing into the ensuite.

She needed to pee, but she also had to face herself. This had been her crazy idea. Was she good for it? Could she take the pain? Would she embarrass herself?

She'd bent all over the hotel room playing with herself. If she failed now, it would disrespect Alice and her own courage. With the promise of punishment present, she couldn't excuse her thoughtless mistake. She'd asked for it. Next to that, taking it was nothing. She washed her hands and returned.

"Hannah," he demanded. "You accept I'm going to cane you. It will hurt and you have to take it with respect and dignity. I won't hesitate to punish you further if you do not."

"Yes," she replied. "I accept."

"Go to the kitchen, close the blinds, and wait for me," he commanded.

Surprised by his instructions, she obeyed. She'd expected to bend over the bed, but this was it. He'd taken command, and it was her solemn duty to obey.

She stood in the kitchen, waiting. Waiting to be punished.

He entered with the cane. Shivers of fear, anticipation, and excitement coursed through her body. His tight black tee gripped his muscular biceps and sheathed his hard stomach. It beat every vision she'd imagined in her hotel room because it was real.

"We were here last night," he said, "when you promised to take out the trash can."

His uncompromising tone snapped her into line.

"Drop your leggings," he commanded.

Riven with a fervent desire to obey, her fingers reached the waistband of her leggings before her mind caught up. She pushed them down and stood in her white cotton bikini panties, facing him.

"We'll use this end of the table," he tapped the kitchen table with the tip of the cane.

"Bend over," he commanded.

Placing her hands on the pine, she lowered herself onto her forearms. Every vein in her body flooded with rich pleasure at her strict obedience as she bent across the table and stretched her fingers to grip the far side, looking straight ahead at the back door.

"You're looking at the door you should have gone through last night to take the trash to the curb."

His voice whipped her negligent mind. It was the most appropriate position in which to receive her punishment. Shame crashed through her. She'd only needed to go through that door to meet her obligation to him, but she'd failed.

"You could have accepted my offer of help, instead you're bending over for the cane."

He was right. Her sex dripped molten liquid into her white panties. His strictness turned her on. He'd understood her need. Not just the pain, but the harsh telling off too. Her heart soared at his kindness. Trembling with humility, she said, "I'm sorry."

"I know you are," he said, "but I must still cane you, and it must be hard."

Driven by dignity, she said, "It must."

"Three strokes," he announced.

He'd thought about the number after he'd tested his skill. One was too easy. Two might be effective, but he knew from Alice, this first punishment, above all else, must not disappoint. It was better to make it harsh than to let her off the slightest bit.

He fitted Cosmopolitan under his elbow, determined to be perfect for her.

Driven to the deepest humility she'd ever know by his tough tone, she looked down at the table. It was real. He'd sentenced her to three hard strokes of the cane. It would hurt her. It should. She deserved it. The cane pressed against her panties for the first time and she lost herself in a storm of fear, respect, anticipation and desire. It was up to him how much she hurt. Whatever his decision, she must take it and do so with grace and respect.

Nothing could have prepared her. The first stroke rid her excitement, and her fear. The rattan seared her skin. Sizzling heat burst intense agony in a tight line across her bottom. Stinging the surface of her skin, the pain pressed into her behind, raging as it soared to its peak. She panted, tightened her fingers on the table and pushed her arms into the pine.

As the agony settled into blazing heat and pulsing pain, she thought of Alice's first stroke. She was already winning. She'd stayed down. Fierce determination nailed her feet to the floor as she considered why her bottom was burning in agony. Her private pleasure had exhausted her, and she'd let him down.

The heat, deep in her backside, refused to dissipate. It built while she waited. She thought of him taking the trash in his car and her sex admired her obedience. It clenched in respect. Punishment should be tough. It was fair and necessary. Her humility turned her on. Her sex seized the pain and spread it, offering slight relief.

The cane tapped her panties. She had to take it again. One was not enough. She respected him for showing no lenience. Another line of pain blazed lower on her bottom. She forced herself to hold still. It took everything she had. It hurt more than she'd ever expected, but the struggle was fitting. She was suffering.

"You're taking your punishment very well," he said.

His compliment lifted her pride and wrapped a blanket of kindness around her. She was a good girl.

"Last one," he warned.

Fiery sting erupted on her bare skin. Low, where her panties narrowed, fire tore across her bare cheeks. She cried out. She couldn't help it. The fierce pain consumed her. Her sex got the message and swept her pain into pleasure, turning hurt into self-respect as the blazing pain intensified.

She panted in place, accepting her punishment and handling it.

"You may stand up," he said.

She stood, feeling the pain change, as the muscles in her bottom contracted and winced as she turned to face him. Suffused by respect and duty, she said, "Thank you for caning me. I deserved it."

He smiled. "Now, can I forgive you?"

"Yes!" she almost shouted with pride as she forgave herself.

His enormous arms pulled her in to him. Lost in his hold, her bottom burned in pleasurable accompaniment.

"God that hurt," she whispered.

"Too much?" he asked.

"No," she countered. "It was what I deserved. I've never had a caning. It's a shock."

His hands stroked her back.

"Thank you for being so tough," she whispered. "It was what I wanted. I feel well punished and I should."

"You took it with supreme dignity," he said. "You didn't move at all. I'm impressed."

The pain was becoming bearable and she could feel how impressed he was. His manhood was full of it. She loved how she could do that and pressed her panties against his hardened jeans, rubbing her passionate sex against his manhood.

Stepping back, she kicked off her leggings and left her cute white socks in place.

He scooped her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her through their house like she weighed nothing and delivered her onto their bed.

The sting as she lay on her bum thrilled her. He stripped in front of her as she plunged her hand into her panties. Loved, punished and placed on the bed for his pleasure, his hard naked body, above her, occupied her vision while his firm treatment occupied her mind. She spread her thighs to take his rock hard manhood in place of her hand. He swept aside her white cotton and entered her hard, shoving her into the pillows as his manhood lifted her to the edge of desperate need.

The elastic of her panties rubbed at her sore welts as he thrust her up the bed. The pain pulsed against her pleasure. She battled to hold herself on her peak.

"You caned me," she breathed.

"Hard," he replied, thrusting deep into her sex.

"God, it was hard. You were wonderful and didn't relent one bit."

"You deserved tough strokes."

"I so did," She gripped his manhood with her sex. He plunged to the hilt and shattered her fragile hold. Orgasms crashed on top of her, smothering her mind in a sea of pleasure, sweeping away the intensity of her pain as wondrous bliss poured through her body.

She rolled onto her front to relieve the pain. This was what it was to be a punished girl.

He traced a finger along her sore red ridges. "Are you okay?" he checked.

"It's fine, it just hurts. It was a lesson I needed to learn."

Turning her head with a grin, she added, "It's good to hurt."

"Alice would be proud of you. Hell, I am," he said.

She spent the evening in her yoga leggings, the soft jersey cotton gentle and kind to her punished bottom. Watching TV together, she snuggled into him.

He paused the movie, leaving a sexy girl in her skimpy white underwear on the screen. She smiled at the vision.

"Is there anything I should have done which I didn't," he asked.

"No. I'm not just being polite. You were the most perfect man, tough and fair. Three strokes was a measured response to my mistake, and you made them hurt good."

"You're sure?" he checked.

"I'm sure. Sending me to the kitchen was so inspired. Being made to face the door I'd failed to open was brilliant and humbling."

"Thank you," he said. "I didn't want to let you down. It surprised me how much I wanted to cane you. I hadn't expected it. It felt natural."

She pressed her head against his chest. "It's natural. I'm a girl. It's in my nature to obey you. It's inevitable I'll fall short someday. There must be a way for you to discipline me and help me back into line. You should feel great about it. I do."

"You're right. I like to lead. It's a male thing. We decide and get on with things. I want to read the rest of the book," he said, squeezing her into him.

"You're in for a treat. I played with myself as I read for two nights. It's why I was so drained when I got home. Alice did me a favor. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have fucked up. It could have taken months of procrastination to get here."

"Would you have asked me, someday?"

"I hope so. My desire for it would have built up, and I'd have exploded. We'd have had a big row, and it would have all come out. I like the frisson of power I feel, when I choose to obey. It pleases me to be disciplined. I want it, but I want to be made to take it. It should always be difficult. It has to mean something."

"I understand," he said, "Are you comfortable?"

"Here, against you, I'm the happiest I've ever been. If you're asking if I still hurt, I do. Thank you," she said, softening into his side, protected by his powerful arm.

"The cane gives us a clear, tangible, and simple punishment for any wrongs I commit."

"You'll get it again," he promised.

Her smile was deep and true, "I expect it. I'm a Modern Girl."