« Spanking Stories

Alice returned to the bedroom after Harry had left for golf. In front of the mirror, she lifted her short pink ruffled hem skirt and bent over. The yellow bananas all over her bright pink panties were distracting.

She ran her fingers over the thin ridges below her panties. They hurt to touch. They would sting for another hour or two. She'd called him 'a kept man' on the phone to her sister. He'd caned her despite her disagreement, and she'd accepted it.

She stood up, let her skirt fall, and called her sister again. She wanted to limit any damage she'd done.

When her sister answered the call, she said, "It's only a quick call. I want to check something."

She explained what had happened after their earlier call. Knowing it had hurt Harry so much, she pleaded with her sister not to repeat what she'd said to anyone.

"I agree with Harry," her sister said. "It surprised me when you said it. I would never repeat it. You shouldn't."

"Oh shit," Alice said. "I've screwed up big time, haven't I?"

"Did you argue?"

"No. He gave me the cane, only a couple of strokes."

"That was good of him, but you're successful and smart, Alice. You've got this wrong. What you said was derogatory. You deserve to get the cane good and hard."

Her sister was a couple of years older and almost never gave advice.

"I'm so glad I didn't argue. It was tough to obey when I didn't feel he should punish me. I'm glad I accepted it, now."

"That was your smartest move ever, apart from writing books. You're a kind girl. Be kind to him tonight and put yourself in his hands. It won't be pleasant, but you deserve your spanking."

"Thanks, sis."

"I've got to go, Good luck, not that you need it. If any girl knows how to bend with all her heart, it's you."

With her sister's words ringing in her ears, she went to change. Her cute panties wouldn't do. She'd wear them another day. She showered and put on white cotton bikini panties and a bra.

Getting the thick punishment cane from the wardrobe, she laid it on the bed. She would take heavy penance for her disregard of his feelings. Even her sister thought she deserved it.

She sat on the bed in her underwear with her MacBook Air on her legs and started typing. Words flowed. Two hours later she had a polished opinion piece for Cosmopolitan. It had delighted her to be asked to write an article, but she'd felt under pressure and bereft of ideas. Glancing over her finished work, the title made her proud. '17 ways to disagree with your man and one way to fix it, no matter what.'

Harry found her resting on the bed, her silver laptop beside her when he got back from golf.

"I've written a great article for Cosmo."

"What did you write about in the end?" he asked, glancing at the punishment cane on the foot of the bed.

"Today. My obedience when I didn't want to. Don't worry, I didn't mention my appalling choice of words. I thought about how I made you feel. Even though I was talking to my sister, it was offensive. I put you down. It was thoughtless and disrespectful."

She looked up into his eyes and said, "Harry, I'm sorry. Unlike earlier, I'm now ashamed of myself, well ashamed. I'm sorry it took two strokes of the cane to make me see how wrong I was. You were generous and kind to give me only two strokes. It was your generosity which focused me on how upset you were."

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I called my sister back. She agreed with you. Indeed, she didn't hesitate. She came down hard on your side. She won't repeat what I said. It shocked her like it shocked you."

"Are you apologizing because your sister agreed with me?"

"No," she said. "Not at all. Well, maybe in part. I called to ask her opinion. She put me in my place. I feel ashamed. I thought again about the way the words sounded and how someone might construe them. Harry, I'm sorry for being thoughtless and downright rude. I need to be punished. I need it so bad. Please be harsh with me and consider my failure to recognize what I'd done."

"Okay," he said. "The cane weighs less than a golf club. But I warn you, my swing has been on form today. I'm pleased we're in agreement this time."

He picked up the cane, and she moved her laptop to the dressing table.

"Shall I touch my toes?" she asked.

"No. Your attitude is exemplary. Let's make it hard, but get it over with."

She nodded. All day he'd been fair, kind and firm with her.

"Bend over the bed," he commanded.

She bent, finding immense pleasure in the obedient position. She needed to bend before him and offer her bottom in total apology. Nothing but his harsh hand could put her right. But it would, and she knew it with all her heart.

"I liked your panties earlier," he said. "I hope you won't feel they're tainted by a terrible memory."

"A good one, in fact. A time when you were kind but firm with me. I'll wear them again. I'm glad you liked them."

"Good. White panties suit you this evening."

She was glad he approved of her choice. It wasn't hard. They both knew how she felt wearing crisp white cotton when she deserved to be punished. It never failed to make her feel innocent and in deep need of the pain she was due.

The thick cane rested against her behind.

"I'm going to cane you hard and fast. It will be brutal pain for a short time, a little like your words."

"Thank you," she said. She wanted to feel his wrath. Harsh treatment was fitting. She pushed her arms into the bed covers in readiness.

Scorching fire burned her butt and drove pain deep into her behind. The punishing pain eclipsed the intense fire on her skin as the cane roasted her again an inch lower, raking agony through her bum. A lasting message was seared low on her soft skin, sizzling the surface with roaring fire. She struggled as each stroke soared and he applied more. The build up exploded into complete anguish. The last stroke cut at an angle across all the previous ones. Hot spots erupted where the stripes met, delivering supreme agony. She gripped the covers with her fists, trying to handle her suffering as an inferno blazed unchecked across her behind.

"Harry, I'm sorry," she said. Pain was raging through her and all she wanted to do was give him a heartfelt apology. "Thank you for thrashing me. I'm sorry I made such a thoughtless mess of things today."

He stroked her back and said, "You can stand up now."

She stood and turned into him, burying her face in his chest, on the edge of tears, not from the pain, but from an overwhelming love for the man she trusted.

"I forgive you," he said, holding her tight. "All you've done is increase my respect with your honesty."

His words, his compliment, his respect and his recognition turned her on. The fire in her behind ripped heat into her sex. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Letting it fall to the floor, she pushed down her panties.

His charcoal golf pants hit the floor, his light blue polo went straight over his head. He pushed off his underwear and held her naked curves tight. He kissed her hard, then softened to explore her lips. His hardness pressed against her as his lips teased her and he walked her backwards to the bed.

Lifting her onto the covers, he climbed onto the bed, gripped her hips and slid his manhood deep inside her. His gentle, controlling strokes reminded her of the same this morning from his cane. She'd needed his gentle control, and he'd given it. She'd deserved a severe thrashing, but he'd taught her only a light lesson.

When she hadn't deserved it, he'd delivered firm kindness. When she'd deserved brutal pain, he'd thrashed her without mercy. The honest evidence of her love and obedience burned into the sheet.

"I love you, Harry. Thank you."

With tender strokes, he lifted her pleasure towards her tantalizing brink.

"I love you too. Your total obedience this morning and understanding tonight make me love you more."

Her sex gripped his manhood as it plowed deep inside her. On the edge of control, without realizing how desperate she was, she cried, "I'm coming."

Orgasms plunged her down the length of the bed. She pulled him hard against her, holding his hardness in place as she rode her pleasure. He thrust his last stroke into her stream of sensation and came hard.

They stayed coupled as they relaxed. After a while, she wriggled out from under him and rolled over onto her front. Her burning bottom had to get off the sheet.

"You're going to hurt tonight," he warned.

She slid back over and kissed him. "No less than I deserve."

Alice read her published article at the kitchen table. Her bottom was well on the way to recovery. Two days and a tube of Arnica gel could do a lot of good. She'd been beyond sore when she'd sent her article to the editor.

It was an honor to be asked to write for Cosmopolitan. Even though she'd been without ideas, she'd agreed.

Her title filled the screen. '17 ways to disagree with your man and one way to fix it, no matter what.'

She described bending over when she didn't agree with it. She espoused and embraced all her feelings, the conflict and her decision to obey, no matter what.

The storm of comments thrilled Cosmopolitan. They thrived on controversy. The editor had called to ask if she wanted to write a regular column. She didn't, but she agreed to send an article anytime she felt she had something to say about spanking.

Scrolling through the acres of comments, there was a lot of intelligent discussion and plenty of dissent. A lengthy comment by 'Hannah' caught her eye. Posted only an hour ago, Hannah's words brought a tear to her eye. This girl got it.