« Spanking Stories

Hannah knew what to wear. Tom's reaction to her black jersey body-con dress at the hotel had been solid, hot and dangerous.

She pulled it from the wardrobe and dressed it up, pairing it with diamond studs and nude heels again. Her long brunette hair shone as she flicked it to lie over her shoulders. She'd had her nails done yesterday. The clear coat glistened in the mirror.

Ella was a breath of fresh air. Having a girlfriend to talk to about being Modern had lit her up. She'd been Modern for a few months longer than Ella, but she sure as hell didn't get punished as often. It seemed Ella had a sore bottom most weeks.

They'd chatted for two afternoons and were all going for dinner tonight. Ella had called yesterday to set it up. She admitted she'd been driving Karl mad talking about their friendship and he'd insisted he had to meet this 'Hannah'.

Tom came in. A black suit was easy for a man. He looked fantastic. Their dinner guests already knew this handsome man spanked her bottom. She felt frisky, alive and just a little embarrassed at the thought.

"You're perfect. I want to mess you up," he said.

"Keep back," she said, holding out a hand to protect her well-planned, natural look.

"Later. I promise," she smiled, glad she'd be pleasant torture for him all evening.

Ella had hit it out of the ballpark. Hannah had known she would.

The Chinese restaurant was on a moored riverboat. The splayed central staircase, covered in red carpet, offered beautiful women a sensational arrival.

Hannah and Tom had made their arrival first. Every male eye had followed her long bare legs as she'd glided down the wide stairs. The elation such unsubtle admiration caused lifted her heart.

But there was admiration, and there was silence. Every conversation came to a simultaneous pause as Ella graced the top of the stairs. Still for the briefest of moments, as every eye aligned, she glided down the wide staircase on her silver heeled sandals. Her sleeveless black mini body-con dress flared at the hips to float over her legs. The subtle shift of her black dress against her white toned legs and the flick of her perfect blond hair from side to side captivated her audience.

She stepped off the red carpet, crossed the floor and slid into the seat opposite Hannah, not seeming to notice as conversations picked up again.

Karl and Ella both worked for a pharmaceutical company and had met at work. She was Vice President of Sales; he was VP of strategy.

They risked politics, religion and children, and found common ground everywhere. Their shared love of crispy shredded beef required more to be ordered.

Karl asked Tom what he'd thought when he first read Blazing Trails. It was a fascinating conversation. Tom had never expected to talk about the book with another guy, so his thoughts were raw. They discussed the challenges they'd each faced trying to meet their girl's expectations that first time and agreed on their firm respect and admiration for Alice.

The prawn crackers were the challenge. The waiters accepted each request for more and failed to follow through. For Hannah, prawn crackers formed an essential part of a Chinese meal. When three waiters had failed her, she hauled the next one aside and made a point of asking. A few minutes later, a busboy delivered king prawns in ginger sauce.

"What the hell? Can't you get prawn crackers right?" she shouted at him.

Other tables noticed. The busboy scurried away, and a manager came over. Following his scolding, he hurried off to complete the request.

When, at last, the prawn crackers were on the table, their conversation was stilted because of Hannah's outburst. Nobody was sure how to regain the mood. After both Karl and Ella had tried to re-ignite the conversation, Tom stepped into the gap.

"Hannah," he said, using her name to draw her attention. His tone alone would have done it, whatever he'd said.

The table went quiet.

"I agree the prawn cracker delivery has been worse than crap, but that busboy was only ferrying a plate to our table. They had given him the plate. He didn't know if it was right or wrong. You shouldn't have spoken to him like that."

His scolding only carried as far as their table, but drew everyone's focus onto her.

"Unless you have a good excuse, you'll get six with the cane when we get home."

She looked straight at him, "Thank you. I'm sorry." Her voice dripped in deep remorse.

She'd had to be told off by him in front of their friends. He'd gone further and announced her punishment in front of them too. The shame had brought her right down to size.

Neither the scolding nor the declared punishment fazed Karl and Ella.

Ella grinned at her, and quipped, "Isn't life simple?"

"Easy to say," Hannah groaned. "You're not getting caned before bed."

Overhearing the exchange, Karl said, "Ella, that was insensitive. You can have the same as Hannah to teach you some sensitivity."

She bowed her head and said, "I'm sorry, Hannah." Turning to her husband, she said, "Thank you, sir."

"Why do you call him 'sir'?" Hannah asked.

"It feels respectful when I'm being punished and proves I accept his authority."

The evening continued as if nothing had ever happened, the conversation back on track. The raspberry cheesecake was so delicious the girls shared an extra slice. Both of them were in good humor, despite being promised the cane before bed.

Tom poured them both a glass of white wine from an open bottle in the fridge. The car service had brought them home at the end of the gorgeous evening.

"I loved tonight," he said. "They're a great couple. Ella's stunning."

"I knew you'd like her. She's wonderful."

"All I want to do, right now, is rip off your dress and have you."

"But because of my attitude, you're forced to have to cane me."

"Yes. I'm sorry, but it's necessary."

"Don't be sorry. I deserve it. You were right. I was rude. I disrupted the lovely flow of conversation. If you hadn't stepped in and punished me in front of them, it might not have recovered. You did it well. I deserved it and felt chastised. I'm proud of how you handled me in front of our friends and I'll show my respect by taking my punishment with particular pride."

"Is there anything you'd like to suggest?" he asked.

"No. I'll accept however you decide to deal with me. I'm only wearing a g-string, so it's going to hurt."

He drained his glass. "Bend over the dining table."

The dark teak table was a fitting place for a disobedient diner to be punished. She pulled two chairs out, moved them aside and stood beside the table.

It would have upset her to damage her new friendship, before it had got off the ground. She'd made the evening uncomfortable. The shame was on her.

He returned from the bedroom with the cane. He'd left his suit jacket behind. In his open-neck white shirt and black suit pants, he looked in charge.

"Lift your dress to your waist," he ordered.

She wriggled up the soft jersey cotton and stood in front of him, her tiny black g-string revealed.

She looked down at her feet, and said, "Please thrash me."

"Bend over," he commanded.

She bent down over the table, resting on her forearms, her bare bottom offered for the cane. She felt the rattan rod tap her vulnerable cheeks.

"Imagine this is the table we were at this evening. Imagine Ella in front of you and Karl to your right."

She pictured the scene, imaging herself bent over the dining table in the restaurant. In her mind, her man had stood up from his seat to deal with her in front of their guests.

The cane tore across her bare cheeks, leaving a fierce smarting in its wake. She imagined a stalwart look on Ella's face. Her friend would consider it reasonable for her to hurt.

The next stroke landed lower and blazed painful punishment in a vicious line. She drove her feet hard into the floor to maintain her self-respect. Ella would have expected it of her. She'd have got a smile from her friend. It would have been a tough-love smile. She deserved her pain, and they all knew it.

The cane moved higher and burned her above the peak of her bottom. Its searing mark tested her resolve. She imagined Karl. She'd only met him tonight. He'd observed her outburst. It was fitting her man should bare her and cane her in front of him. Shame engulfed her at the richness of her humiliation.

The cane scorched a line of fire low on her bare bottom.

"Are you imagining Ella and Karl watching your caning?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she replied. It had slipped out. She'd never even thought to call him that until tonight.

"Good. Stay still, while I make these last two memorable."

The cane scorched her low, bursting fiery heat in a fresh spot. Without a moment to accept the pain, he doubled it with another hard stroke next to the last.

She forced her arms onto the table as intense pain soared to new heights. Her forearms hurt as she forced them to hold her still. She panted hard, clouding the polished tabletop.

Stroking her back, he said, "Stand up."

She stood and turned to face him. She forced her hands by her sides and let the pain drench her. "Thank you for caning me. I hurt and I deserve to."

"You're forgiven and I love you," he said, putting the cane on the table and pulling her into him.

She let him hold her, lifting her arms around his neck and kissing him while her bare bottom burned.

"That was your first ever six strokes. You took it with huge dignity and grace."

"Thank you. I wanted it to hurt."

"You're beautiful. I've wanted you since you got dressed, which seems hours ago," he groaned.

"Take me to bed. Don't be gentle with me," she pleaded, wanting the pain and the pleasure.

He led her through to their bedroom. She lifted her dress over her head and kicked off her heels. He removed his suit pants, his manhood already straining his white trunks. She watched his desire bulge as she unhooked her black bra. His shirt now gone, he released his manhood. She smiled at him. It felt good to be loved that much.

The cool sheets provided a welcome relief for a few seconds before her butt heated them. He pulled off her g-string, and she lifted her hips in compliance. The ownership he showed drew out her deepest need to obey.

He spread her thighs to take his hardness. The controlling touch of his lips demanded her obedience. She grabbed his bum and pulled him harder into her, accepting his rightful dominance.

Pulling her lips away, she breathed, "I called you 'sir'."

"Did it feel right?"

"Only when you're being strict with me. But it feels satisfying to submit to you and address you with formal respect."

"Skim your nipples," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," she panted, running her fingers over her glistening buds.

He thrust deep into her, defining his control.

"You announced my punishment in front of friends."

"You deserved it," he grunted, thrusting deep into her sex.

She held his hardness, easing her grip only because he made her.

"You were hard on me, in public and in private."

He came hard, bursting an entire evening of lust deep inside her. She reeled from a slew of matching orgasms as they thrashed down her curves. For a moment there was no pain, only molten pleasure coursing through her body.

She settled, with her powerful man stroking her curves. The fire in her bottom returned with a vengeance. Punished and fucked, she loved both of her statuses.

"I don't have enough words for how glorious you made me feel," she said.

"You were awesome," he said.

"I mean the complete night. Declaring my caning in front of friends. Thrashing me when we got home. Those last two strokes are going to hurt for days. Thank you. I needed you to be tough. I love your control over me and I always will."

She fell silent.

"I knew we were on safe ground with Ella and Karl," he said. "I'm glad it didn't upset you. It felt right. You were wrong, and I felt you deserved to be punished."

"I did," she confessed.

"I get why you're so happy to have a Modern Girl as a friend. It's liberating." he said.

As if on cue, her phone lit up. She unlocked the message from Ella, "Thanks, I needed that. x"

She turned the phone to him.

He grinned.

She tapped a quick reply, 'That's what friends are for. xxx'