« Spanking Stories

« Alice, Hannah and Ella

 

11. Feed Me First

Spanking Story

 
 

A girlfriend is grateful when her boyfriend imposes monthly punishment

 
   
«Beginning Part 12»

"Do you have any doubts?" Tom asked, guiding his Audi A5 Sportback around the bend.

Hannah lifted her hands, as if balancing the scales of justice. "On one hand, minor issues build up over a month. Things we don't notice, but which rankle. It's good to wipe the slate clean," she said. "On the other, I crave the intense sex and emotional release of being obedient to you. If I go too long without it, the pressure builds up and I act out to get it. I don't want to misbehave."

Resting her hands in her lap, she looked out the car window. "I don't have to choose. They're both good reasons to receive regular discipline. I'm glad you're going to cane me tonight. I need it."

They were on the way to Landon Lodge. She loved him, but never more than when he'd revealed this weekend away. It was her first ever 'Maintenance'. That's what Alice had called regular discipline. It was apt.

He'd chosen to deliver her first Maintenance, in the same hotel as Alice. In Alice's case, it had been luck. A romantic weekend had coincided with the first Friday of the month.

She and Tom had chosen the same day. Friday made sense. She didn't have to go to work the next day. They could enjoy her obedience and soreness together. Making it special for her was a loving and kind gesture. She felt Alice would approve.

Alice had made a particular point of how Maintenance was a sign of respect. It had to be given with kindness, but no less hard. It was a girl's choice to bend and receive a reminder of the authority she gave her man.

He slowed to turn left. He'd re-read the chapter for advice and had booked a weekend at Landon Lodge. It hadn't been difficult to guess that receiving her first maintenance, where Alice had first received hers, would delight his girl. He'd even requested room 430, where she'd stayed for her team-building.

Landon Lodge often got this sort of request for rooms on the top floor. The floor with the books and canes attracted a lot of repeat-business. The owner had ordered the books and canes placed in the rooms with the notecards she'd designed. It had caused discussion among the staff at first, but had soon settled down.

The owner's silence on the matter encouraged the same among the staff. They treated the customers and rooms in the usual way. There was no knowing who might like the book or who would ignore it. Most of the world seemed to have read Blazing Trails by now. It was a bestseller. The staff all knew the connection to the hotel. To have inspired something so successful made everyone proud.


"Just checking," he said, as he reached above the wardrobe in room 430 to ensure the cane was there.

She glanced around. The room hadn't changed. She had fond memories of every inch. The first time she'd imagined Tom caning her, she'd been lying on this bed. Her heart rose again. It was fitting she would bend over this very bed tonight, to be caned by him.

She smiled at him across the room. "I'm going swimming, while I can," she grinned.

"Do you want me to come?" he asked.

"No, a little alone time will be nice."

"I'll explore," he said, having never been to the 270 acre estate.


Floating in the warm pool, she stared at the up-lit beamed ceiling, her thoughts miles away. Smoothing a hand under her bottom, she felt the revealing cut of her black one-piece swimsuit sweeping over her soft cheek. It wouldn't feel this way later. She was unblemished. It had been months since he'd had to cane her.

The last time had been their picnic day, when she'd received extra discipline for disobedience. She'd loved him for that. He'd been harsh, but she'd deserved it. Her obedience mattered to both of them.

She wouldn't have to touch her toes tonight. She would bend over the bed for three painful strokes of the cane. The familiar feeling washed over her. She loved to obey. She loved the sheer humility of being given orders and made to accept them.

Wiping her face of water, she bobbed in a curved shallow corner and wondered if either of the other two girls in the pool expected the cane tonight. It wasn't likely. Although at this hotel, more than possible.

They'd agreed she could decline her maintenance for any reason, but she would never try to escape it. It mattered to Tom, too. He'd admitted he coveted the passionate sex and the subtle honesty of her humble obedience.

She climbed out of the pool. It was time to become humble and obedient, and she was ready.


In the room, she washed her hair and dried it with her micro-fiber towel. She never traveled without it. It absorbed the excess water, then wrapped her hair for fifteen minutes.

In less than an hour she lay on the bed, with perfect air dried hair, in only white cotton bikini panties. They were her choice for the cane, a pair of innocent panties in which to face her strict discipline. The organic cotton was thin and tight, with enough cheek on display to feel vulnerable.

She re-read Alice's chapter about maintenance. There was nothing new to learn, but she wanted to have thought of everything. The next chapter explained the pleasure of being sore in public. That was happening too tonight. They were going down for dinner soon after her caning. It would be a joy to sit in public, sore and disciplined, with the man who'd done it to her. Alice made so much sense.

Tom's timing was impeccable. Her reading had turned her on, and she was itching for her hand in her panties when he arrived back from exploring the grounds.

"You look ready," he said, "are you?"

"Yes, and I'm turned on. I've been reading the book again," she said. "You're the kindest man ever. It means the world to me to be in this room with you tonight. Thank you."

"I love you, and now I must cane you," he said, reaching above the wardrobe.

She wondered if the different cane would feel different. One way to find out. She got off the bed and stood in front of him, naked except for her white cotton panties.

Flexing the cane, he said, "You've agreed to be disciplined once a month for your own good. Three strokes. It's going to hurt."

"Thank you. I'll need it."

She wanted to make him comfortable. She'd done nothing wrong, but it was crucial he still caned her hard. It took guts and confidence to bend over, knowing your bottom would suffer incredible pain. Having taken the plunge, it needed to be severe and memorable.

He said, "You're a good girl, Hannah. Bend over."

She faced the side of the bed and bent. Pure humble pleasure washed over her in waves as she felt her white cotton stretch tight over her bent bottom. She hoped he would be severe. This mattered. She was respecting their relationship. He must too.

She couldn't remember if her behavior had been perfect at all times in the past month. It may not have been. This would cover those times and remind her how fabulous it made her feel to bend before him and let him take control.

The cane rested against her cotton. She breathed in a deep breath and let it out.

Vicious sting burned a line of pain across the middle of her bottom and a sharp crack assaulted her ears. The tight line tore furious fire from one side of her bottom to the other. Heat and pain escalated as she remained still to honor herself and him. She'd masturbated on this very bed for two nights, dreaming of obeying him; now she was.

Punishing pain buried itself deep in her and his dominance drove her sex into a frenzy. His ruthless stroke wound up her fierce need into a fervent fury. The cane seared her bottom through her thin panties. The painful force ripped across her cheeks, leaving her sex inundated with pleasure at his power.

"You've chosen to be an obedient girl. I respect you. I've seen how good it is for us. Last one," he warned, tapping the cane near the middle of her bottom.

"Make it where I'll sit," she begged. "Be very hard on me. I need it."

She'd taken his words to heart and admired his sincere strokes. She wanted him to honor the depth of her commitment with a harsh last stroke, one she'd feel without choice while sitting at dinner.

He'd intended to lay all his strokes on the peak of her bottom. She didn't deserve a severe thrashing, but it was clear she wasn't of the same mind.

The punishment rod whipped through the air. The slight whistle connected with her mind as the rattan slashed across her almost bare skin. A fresh weal erupted across her soft bottom. The acute agony of the protracted, deep sting carried through her as a ridge formed on the surface. It had been a full-force stroke, delivered with the love she'd asked for. Her heart reached for him as she panted over the bed, processing the deep agony of her last stroke, her sex plunging pleasure into her pain.

She stayed in position, letting it discipline her, and begged, "Fuck me. Now. Fast."

He dropped the cane on the floor, added his jeans and shirt, resolving to strip to his shorts before giving her maintenance in the future. They came off last.

Her humble obedience had made him rock hard from the start. He pulled her white cotton to one side and slid his manhood into her slicked and desperate sex. Grabbing her hips, he held her on the bed and thrust deep into his obedient girlfriend.

She felt him impale her. The control of his firm hands on her hips was instant pleasure in her sex. She thrust herself back, trying to draw all of him, as deep as possible inside her. Lowering her head onto the bed, her hands dealt with her rock-hard nipples. She skimmed them with her fingers as he thrust his manhood into her, holding her in place.

"Don't stop," she yelled, as he held her on the thin precipice of ultimate pleasure. She forced herself to stay in the delicious and difficult place. With ultimate will power, she kept herself from coming.

He broke her, plunging his manhood through her strength, giving all the need she'd built up in him. Her dam burst, crashing waves of stunning orgasms through her. He held her tight as her legs threatened to lose control. She shuddered and rocked as rushes of hot pleasure surged through her body.


He sat in the armchair in black slacks and a white open-necked shirt, enjoying the show.

Her black bra had pretty detailing low on the cups. The black triangle between her legs moved as she fitted her diamond stud earrings. She turned, replacing his view with her bare, caned cheeks, bisected by her black cotton string. The obedient, painful branding disappeared as she sheathed her bare curves in black.

Facing his way again, her black stretch cotton jersey dress hugged her body. At the tops of her long, bare, toned legs, the black perfection ended, its job done, leaving beautiful bare legs and patent nude three-inch heels for his eyes to admire.

"Perfect," was all he could say. His breath and lack of words conveyed everything.

In seconds, she'd turned into the perfect girl for dinner. Beautiful, sophisticated, obedient and caned. His reaction thrilled her. Her bottom hurt under the gentle jersey cotton. It raised her game.

He stood. She felt gorgeous and small beside him.

"Thank you for caning me," she said, as he reached for the door.

"I love your bottom," he replied, running a hand over her bum. "Will you be okay?"

"You can admire how graceful I am with a caned bottom, and how obedient," she whispered.

"I want you again already," he growled, taking her hand.

She smiled and leaned into him, "Take me any way you want, but feed me first."