« Spanking Stories

Ella ripped the Marlboro cigarette from the red and white packet and flicked the lighter, as she heard Karl's key in the door of their condo. It was the second one she'd lit from the packet. The first had been a test an hour ago, just to be sure she could get it lit. That one, she'd run under the tap to kill the smell and buried in the trash.

She sat back in her desk chair and waited, her lips light on the cigarette, inhaling only the barest amount. The smell should draw him to their home office. She waited.

"What the hell are you doing?" Karl exclaimed, dropping his computer bag beside his desk. "Put that out at once."

She stubbed the cigarette on the saucer she'd placed on the desk for the purpose. He went straight to the window at the end of the room and opened it wide.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"I'm smoking," she said.

"I can see that. When did you start?"

"An hour ago."

"Then you can stop right away. I don't want to see or smell another of those foul things in our house for the rest of my life."

He ripped the packet and lighter off the desk and left the room. She heard him putting them in the trash and listened with a half smile as he tied the trash bag and took it out the door to the bins downstairs.

When he came back, she was still sat at the scene of her crime.

"Brush your teeth. Do a thorough job of it."

She hadn't seen that coming, but his anger was a bonus. She went to the bathroom. Pulling her pure blonde hair to her nose, she smelled it. Only a full shower would deal with things. She brushed her teeth as instructed. It was the most thorough teeth cleaning she'd ever performed. The bitter taste had been worse than the first time she'd ever tried a cigarette.

After a long shower, she returned to their open-plan lounge and kitchen, her hair still damp.

"Come here," he ordered.

He wrapped her in his arms and smelled her hair. She enjoyed being examined and checked. He kissed her. It was the lightest of touches as he tested the taste of her. Her extensive teeth brushing met with his approval and he ravaged her mouth, demanding her tongue's compliance as his lips burned heat through hers.

The door buzzer interrupted and the sweet smell of Teresa's finest pizza filled the room. Cooked in a wood-fired oven, the thin namesake pizza from the eclectic Teresa's topped with mozzarella, pistachios, truffle cheese and honey filled her nose with pleasure.

"I ordered dinner while you were in the shower," he said, placing the pizza on the table and adding two plates.

They each took a slice.

"Now, why don't you tell me what the hell is going on?"

"I'm frustrated," she said. "I got annoyed reading 'Rules' last night."

'Rules' was another of Alice North's gripping mega-hit series about girls who got the cane from their men. They'd not read it and were catching up together.

He thought back to last night in bed. The principal character, Charlotte, had got a hard paddling in college for smoking. She was neither in college, nor had she smoked. Her husband was satisfying her need to experience a formal college paddling.

"We love reading Alice's books. What upset you? Was Charlotte paddled too hard? Was it unfair?" he asked.

"No, far from it," she said.

It had only come to her during the day how jealous she was of Charlotte.

"It's not fair. I didn't get the paddle when I bought cigarettes. My college reported it to my parents. But Sweden doesn't permit physical punishment, so I lost my allowance for two months. My parents should have paddled me. Charlotte didn't even smoke, but I did. Her punishment was over in a few minutes. It's just not fair," she vented her frustration across the open-plan room.

"Did you like smoking?" he asked.

"Not in the slightest. It's ridiculous and stinks."

"Losing your allowance for two months sounds fair," Karl said.

"I couldn't go out without money. This boy, Lars, lost interest in me. It would have been fairer to paddle me. I don't care if it hurts. It's good for us girls. We need it. It resets us."

"Well you can't change the past," he said, trying to calm her.

It riled her. "But, you can," she said. "That's why I smoked just now."

As anger at the injustice poured off her, he realized her game. She wanted to be paddled for smoking as it should have been in the past, at least in her mind. He thought of the foul smell he'd encountered the second he'd arrived home.

Having got her frustration out, she could eat. She was more ravenous than she'd realized. With only one slice each remaining, she asked, "Will you?"

He picked up his last slice of pizza and paused. Pistachios and fresh honey wafted under his nose. While they'd eaten, he'd formed a plan. He had no intention of letting her down.

Adopting a strict tone, he said, "Smoking is disgusting and bad for your health. I'll deal with you on Saturday at 2pm. Report to our office, dressed as you would have been at college," he gestured to the spare room they'd turned into an efficient workspace. "Expect to hurt. You're going to be paddled."

On Saturday morning it arrived. At least she thought so. She didn't touch the package addressed to him. It would touch her plenty later. Anticipation of her fate, while not knowing how much the paddle would hurt, had replaced her jealous anger at the injustice.

She'd relaxed as soon as he'd promised to paddle her. It was in her nature to accept his firm hand. She wanted to get what she'd missed out on. Charlotte had. It was only fair.

Two months with no allowance had been more cruel than two minutes with the paddle and a day of discreet pain. She didn't want Lars. But her parents should have given her the chance to hurt a bit, flirt a bit, and find out.

Karl was her husband. She loved him. He understood her. He punished her. She had no regrets. Well, only one, but he was about to sort it.

She laid her mid-blue '7 for All Mankind' jeans on the bed. They were straight cut with a tight butt and the closest thing she had to college girl jeans. The jean choice had been tricky, but every girl had sweet cotton panties. Hers were light gray briefs with tiny pink, white, and navy dots. He wouldn't see them, but she'd be a college girl again.

He'd eaten more lunch than her. Bending over on a full stomach didn't appeal. After lunch, he disappeared to their home office. Alone, she had twenty minutes to imagine the painful punishment she was due.

She'd dressed before lunch, adding her flat white 'Keds' champion sneakers and a plain white round neck tee, to her college girl jeans and panties. At 2pm, she knocked on the dark wood door and heard a firm summons.

He'd cleared his desk and moved it in front of the window, from its usual position on the wall opposite hers. His modern dark-wood desk looked ready for its purpose. The contrasting pale oak paddle rested on it. Four feet long with a short handle, the business end contained six serious holes.

"I'm disappointed to see you here, Ella," he said.

His tone was convincing. Disappointment in herself swamped her. His khaki chinos and black polo conveyed strength and authority, as did his voice.

"Were you aware of the rules about smoking?"

"Yes, sir," she said, determined to accept her guilt. Whether it was for her offense in college or her blatant smoking yesterday, she deserved punishment.

"But you smoked, anyway."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry," she said, her voice drowning in shame.

"I have to paddle you. Rules exist for your benefit. I hope this will remind you."

"I understand, sir."

He reached for the paddle. "Bend over," he commanded.

She bent down over the desk, resting her bare forearms on the surface and spreading her hands flat on the dark wood. Her jeans stretched tight across her disobedient behind.

She enjoyed being made to take this position. To be bent in her jeans for serious punishment, pumped guilt through her.

"Four swats," he warned. "Hold still. If you move at all, I'll repeat the swat."

The paddle rested against her jeans. He wouldn't have allowed their protection unless this was going to hurt, regardless. She feared the paddle as it rested against her denim, but she was all out of choices. It was her time to be paddled. She had to take the punishment she was long overdue. She slowed her breath and clenched her cheeks in anticipation.

The paddle slammed into her jeans and pummeled pain deep into her cheeks. The heat encompassed her entire behind. She'd never been so punished. She panted through the agony, staring out the window at the building opposite.

He hadn't closed the blinds. If someone opposite looked across, they'd see her in distress over the desk. She realized what he'd done. Had she received the paddle during her college years, it would have become known. These things do. As it was, their neighbors would recognize the sound, but they couldn't pinpoint it to the exact condo. But across the street someone might see. There was a real risk of genuine embarrassment. One he was making her suffer. She respected his ruthless resolve as the heat swamped her bottom.

The paddle slammed her against the desk. Its smarting blaze covered a lower area, roasting her where it overlapped. The heat of her skin varied between blazing fury and inferno, neither a comfortable choice. The deep agonizing ache brought her into line, hard.

She wailed, "I'm sorry, sir."

"I bet you are. That's the point."

She remembered the taste of those cigarettes. The bitter smell was worse. She'd only smoked two in college. One to try it, and one to improve her skill. She'd shared the others. It was the near empty packet in her tight jeans which had got her caught. Even with the shocking fire overtaking her behind, she wished they'd paddled her back then.

The paddle crashed into her soft denim, baking her already heated bottom to a crisp. She deserved the deep pain in her rear and forced herself to look straight out the window. From this room she couldn't see the park, only the windows opposite. If someone saw her, they would see the same tall blond girl on the street, smiling, humble and proud.

The paddle blasted into her soft butt, sizzling the already fiery skin and driving its punishing pain deep into her muscles. Awaiting her punishment had turned her on. When he'd told her off, her sex had tightened. Now she was sorry, sore and grateful for the brutal correction.

"Stand up and face me," he ordered.

She obeyed, the pain thrusting itself in different directions as her bottom muscles contracted.

"You made this room smell while you made your point. It wasn't necessary. You could have asked for the paddle."

She couldn't have just asked him. She needed to get caught. It had to be the paddle for her this time, no sympathy and no kindness, just tough swats designed to hurt.

"I'm sorry," she said.

She'd hated the smell she'd created. His strict response had driven innate fear and tremendous compliance into her heart.

"Drop your jeans. I'm going to give you one hard swat for smoking in this room."

She nodded. She'd been difficult. The book had made her jealous, and she had lit a cigarette in this room. For that alone, her bottom should burn and without her jeans it would.

She unsnapped the blue denim, freeing her bottom to waves of deep ache. Pushing the denim down her slim toned legs, she said, "I deserve it. Don't be kind because I'm in my panties. It's appropriate. And one isn't enough."

"Bend over."

She resumed her position over the desk, this time with only her thin light gray college girl panties, adorned in tiny white, pink and navy spots. It felt right. She'd got herself wound up and been difficult. The heavy paddle rested against her thin cotton.

The oak blasted into her cotton and burned rich fire into her skin. She pressed against the desk, trying to assuage the pain, keeping her flat white sneakers stuck to the floor. She hurt, just hurt. It was fair. He landed it again, full force. The strength of her man transferred deep pain in her behind. She needed it. Pain pulsed its agreement.

"Stand up," he ordered.

She turned and faced him, standing contrite in her college girl panties.

"I'm sorry for my attitude. Thank you for the paddle on my panties. I deserved it. I was always sorry I'd ever tried smoking. That was fair punishment. Thank you for paddling me." Her honest words inflamed her sex. The sheer amount of heat inside her forced its way to where she needed it.

"That was a punishment, Karl. Proper, painful, embarrassing punishment. I'm going to want it again. I'll accept the cane, but I need a lot of pain. It's how I'm wired. Please punish me hard from now on."

Chastened and humble, he could see the dramatic effect the paddle had had on her.

"I will," he said. "Is this why you act out so often? To get punished?" he asked.

"I think so. I need it to hurt more. Also, I liked the shame and embarrassment of getting my paddling in front of the window. Talking about it is turning me on now. Get your clothes off, please," she begged.

She shoved her hand into her panties and rubbed her clit, her face saturated with pleasure as she watched him strip. The sight of her honest contrition reflected in his hardness was too much for her. She came hard, shaking her painful bottom as her legs struggled to hold her against the flood of pleasure in her panties. She kicked off her flat white sneakers and push off her jeans. Her white tee and bra landed on the floor while he stroked his hardness in front of her.

"You took it very well," he panted, lying down on the cream rug.

She lay beside him, proud of her pain. "Fuck me, Karl," she begged. "Leave my panties on."

She teased her hard nipples, while he pushed her cotton aside and entered her hard on the rug. He took her, scorching her burning bottom. She seized her pleasure and pain, mixing them into pure native lust. She gripped his bare bum tight as her nipples grazed his hard chest.   

He pummeled her sex, driving her pleasure up to its crest. He thrust all his need into her. She came, flooding her orgasms through her pain. They mixed with the rich, ardent scent of strict obedience, a torrent of raging pleasure, pain and honesty.

Lying on the floor together, arms flung aside, he asked, "Now I've paddled you, can we continue to read 'Rules'?"

"A chapter at a time, because it's going to hurt."