« Spanking Stories

Hannah pulled Tom's white Hugo Boss shirt from the washing machine. It had been white this morning. The pink shirt was only one of several and her blouses had the new hue. As she dragged everything into the basket, the only item not pink were her bright red panties.

The science wasn't difficult to understand. Red panties should not be in a load of white washing. She'd set the program this morning, knowing it would run in the late afternoon and be ready when she got in. The routine was so common she didn't have to think about it. She'd loaded the white wash and hit the program to start at 5pm.

She pulled the Hugo Boss shirt out from under the pink menage and held it up to the window. Somehow it seemed less pink in the bright sunshine coming in over the golf course. She dumped it back in the basket. It was a stupid illusion. She could try to make it look white in her mind, but everyone else would just see pink, and not a vibrant pink, but a pathetic washed out pink Tom would never wear, and she'd never let him.

Her mind had been on her day at work. There was nobody else to blame. She'd sorted the washing. It was she who'd ruined three of his shirts, three of her blouses, and plenty of other items.

"Tom," she called, her voice full of dismay.

He arrived. She pointed at the laundry basket full of pink.

"Why did you?" He stopped.

"I didn't intend to. My red panties were in there. I must not have done a proper job of sorting it."

"Are the shirts fixable?"

She looked down and kicked the basket. "Not so you could wear them. There are tricks, but they will always have a tinge of pink."

He stepped close to her and pulled her into him. "We can buy new ones."

"It's not the point," she said in his chest.

"I know," he whispered into her hair. "We'll deal with the point tomorrow morning. I'm going to punish you with push-ups and a belt spanking."

Her heart raced. It was a wonderful punishment. The kindest he could have ever delivered. It was what had happened to super yacht stewardess Amy.

'The Yacht' by Alice North had been on sale for a week. She'd finished it in three nights and handed it to Tom. Alice had done it again. She'd based her character Amy on a true story. Amy was a stewardess on a super yacht, and a Modern Girl. Her boyfriend, Dan, caned her. He was the First Officer onboard. Getting punished while living on top of her crew mates had been a challenge and often a pleasure for Amy.

'The Yacht' was storming up the charts. Ten million copies had sold on the first day. Like the book which had started her disciplined life, it had a burned orange cover with a white silhouette of a super yacht, the title in a lively white font and 'Based on a true story' along the bottom.

In one chapter, Amy had let her crew down. Her boss, the Chief Stewardess, had needed to punish her for lack of care and attention in the laundry. She'd made her do ten push-ups in the fierce morning sun on the top deck of the yacht on a yoga mat, wearing formal uniform. A uniform inspection followed her punishment, including her white cotton panties, which had to comply with regulations. It had been a humbling experience to be punished every morning for five days while anyone could watch. Her boss hadn't permitted her a drop of sweat or any uniform imperfection. She'd completed her punishment with grace and respect and at the end of the week got a belting from her boyfriend.

Hannah's biceps burned as she raised her body straight, her arms taking the pain. The yoga mat under her hands and feet outlined her punishment position. The morning sun beat down on her bottom, the mat, and the surrounding decking.

Her punishment was ten perfect push-ups in her suit skirt and blouse without a drop of sweat followed by a hard belting, and she wouldn't let herself down. The pale pink cuffs of her blouse slid with her arms as the sun scorched her skirt. Beneath her skirt, her white cotton panties gripped her cheeks tight. She'd made herself wear them under the gray pencil skirt.

Tom watched from the lounge, admiring her gorgeous bottom encased in her tight skirt as it rose and fell. Her body remained straight as she worked her arms, completing the strict punishment he'd given her.

After ten, she rose to her feet, stepped into her heels, collected her mat and went inside for her inspection. Her work uniform must be flawless. A drop of sweat or any imperfection would add painful minutes to her belt spanking.

She placed the rolled mat on the floor inside the door.

"Stand there," he commanded, pointing to the rug in the middle of the lounge.

She stool tall as he walked around her, checking her skirt was straight and inspecting her blouse for sweat marks or creases. He circled her again, checking her face and neck for the slightest droplet of sweat or a stray hair. The slightest imperfection would earn her extra minutes with the belt.

"Lower your skirt," he ordered.

She unzipped it at the back and lowered it a few inches. Heat coursed through her sex at her strict obedience. Under her skirt must be white cotton bikini panties. He circled her to check. It was a delicious humiliation to have her panties inspected in the middle of the lounge. She'd luxuriate in this moment all day.

As he walked behind her, she felt a tap on her left butt cheek. "Your panties have ridden up, and the elastic has flipped over. Correct it, please."

She reached behind her, felt the disobedient elastic, flipped it over and pulled the left side back into place.

Her sex dripped pleasure at the forced unveiling of her panties and his strict checking. The minor failure of her panty elastic was disappointing, but she'd pay for it under his supple leather belt.

"Pull your skirt back up," he ordered as he came around to face her again. "One extra minute on your belting because your panties weren't perfect."

"Thank you," she said, proud to accept the harsh punishment for her slight imperfection.

"Now, you pass," he declared. "Well done. Your push-ups were perfect and you don't have a drop of sweat anywhere."

The compliment pleased her. She'd wanted to be as good as Amy. It wasn't rivalry as much as admiration for the girl she only knew from the book.

"Now, I have to belt you," he said. "Take off your skirt."

She obeyed, placing it on the back of a chair while he drew his black leather belt from his blue pants. The gesture captivated her sex and her nipples responded. He folded it over, the buckle inside his hand. His personal attention given to her punishment plunged vicious pleasure through her sex.

He sat in the middle of their couch, his belt in his hand.

"Bend over my knee," he commanded

At a slight angle, a tip she'd picked up from Amy, she bent over his knee, so she could rest her forearms on the couch. She'd be here a while. She lay still while he pushed her pink blouse up her back to give himself clear access to her panty-clad butt.

"Five minutes of stinging warm up. Followed by two meaningful minutes under the belt," he said, a reminder of the punishment Amy had received. She'd committed to the same, competing with a girl she'd never met, but liked.

"But you have an extra minute because your panties weren't flawless, so it's three tough minutes for you."

The belt snapped across her panties. The sting titivated the surface of her skin and faded fast. He belted her again. It was almost pleasant.

He belted her down her right cheek, warming her bottom. Her left cheek enjoyed the same sharp refreshing wake up. He covered her right cheek again. It was noticeable, but still bearable. This time, the sting didn't fade, it built.

The deceptive leather smacks on her thin cotton delivered a decent sting. Each stroke electrified her sex. The continuous application of his leather belt on her bum turned her on as the heat in her bottom met the acceptance in her mind, but made her desperate to rub her rock-hard nipples.

Smacks covered the same area for the third time. The burn deepened as the warm-up lived up to its name. Now, every inch of her bottom radiated heat and stung.

"Three meaningful minutes," he warned, "stay still while I belt you. This will hurt. It must."

Her sex screamed with pleasure at the harsh escalation. She'd underestimated the subtlety of his belt. It snapped across the middle of her panties, leaving livid sting on both cheeks. Unlike the cane, it only stung on the surface, but it was a mighty sting.

The leather cracked against her cotton without letting up as he belted her for a second minute. His white Hugo Boss shirt had been pink. She deserved it. She expected high standards of herself. It was why she liked Amy so much.

The sting consumed her whole bottom. Her tender bottom would keep her company all day.

"It would have been over now if your panties had been straight," he told her. "You have one more tough minute. You earned it fair and square."

"Thank you. I deserve it," she said. Her panties should have been flawless. She pictured the elastic flipped over as the belt wrapped low across her bottom, catching bare skin where her panties narrowed. He gave her no time to process the pain before the next lash stung her skin.

This had to hurt. She deserved her belting. Her uniform, as she thought of her suit this morning, had to be flawless - on top, and underneath. Furious burn across her lower bottom punished her failure. It was a lesson she needed. Dan would have thrashed Amy for any imperfection in her inspection.

Tom's belt beat a hard pattern on her bottom and she welcomed it. Her arms still burned from the push-ups, now her bottom burned from the leather. Her sex wrapped the pain and heat in a package of righteous dignity and pleasure.

The belt stopped.

He rubbed her bottom, spreading the sting. The sore and sexy bottom rub was welcome. She could feel his manhood against her hip.

"Stand up," he said.

Leaning on the couch, she rose to her feet and faced him.

"Thank you for supervising my push-ups, inspecting me and belting me. I needed it."

He smiled. "Move on from the shirts. We can afford new ones. You fucked up and you've taken your punishment. It's done."

She nodded. He was right. Her bottom hurt and it should, but the severe belting had freed her mind.

He stood and planted a demanding kiss on her lips, his hardness pressed against her panties. "I've watched your sexy bum rise and fall and I've belted you," he said, cupping her white cotton bottom as he guided her backwards towards the dining room.

Her sex soared as it realized the destination. Turning to face the dining table, she flung herself across it, her hips crashing against the curved edge as she grabbed for the far side and spread her feet for support.

"Take me," she begged.

His ruthless possession ruled her heart as he ripped her white panties to her knees.

She wanted him to possess her. A firm finger slid over her glistening sex in warning, as standing over her, he dropped his suit pants and pushed down his tight trunks. His manhood thrust deep inside her. Plunging to the hilt, he consumed her sex.

"Fuck me like you belted me," she cried as her sex gripped his invading force.

Desperate for relief, she pressed back against his solid hips, forcing his manhood deeper.

"You offered your panties for inspection," he panted.

Her pale pink sleeves slipped over the surface of the table as she tried to grip the far side. He thrust her across the table. She grabbed the edge, propelled against her limit.

Her molten sex cried for release as she cried, "You belted me."

His impaling force drove her to the brink of desperation and held her. Pressed against the promise of pleasure, he denied her its gift.

"I'll belt you again," he warned.

She gave herself to his promise and surrendered. He felt her submit and hurled his need deep into her. It devastated her fragile hold and gifted her the pleasure she craved. Orgasms pumped her hips against the table. The desperate release suffused her with pleasure until she lay stunned over the table, her orgasms ebbing away.

She summoned silent thanks to Amy. It had been a thorough punishment, a hot and hard start to the day. She needed firm treatment, and sometimes she craved it.

He helped her up and met her lips. His powerful arms enveloped her in his protection. She could surrender because she loved him. He was reliable. He would hold and protect her, and when he should, he'd belt her.

Breaking away, she pulled up her panties, "That was so hot. Take me like that anytime."

"Anytime," he grinned, pulling up his white shorts and fixing his suit pants.

Collecting her skirt and heels from the lounge, they headed to the hallway. She stepped into her pencil skirt in front of the mirror. Her tailored skirt suits came to mid-thigh, a delicate line between sexy and respectable.

"I'm going to enjoy my uniform today," she smiled.

She checked her blouse in the mirror. A couple of creases from sex. He'd belted her and fucked her. There should be some small sign to the world. Grabbing her suit jacket from the hall chair, she slipped into her gray three-inch heels.

"You're a good girl. You've done ten push-ups in the burning sun, passed inspection, taken a hard belting. Not to mention, a thorough seeing to."

Opening the front door, she laughed, "And all before work."

Amy's story is told in The Yacht