« Spanking Stories

Hannah snapped the left paddle on her steering wheel, changing down a gear, and floored the accelerator. Her dark green Mini Cooper convertible surged into the passing lane, her long brunette tresses flying in the wind.

Her marketing ideas had ruled the day at work. She was full of them. It had been a veritable Monday of genius. Her dramatic red miniskirt and suit jacket offset her dark green paintwork. She'd worn red to change the world. From her closet of suits and blouses, she'd picked the right one for today. It had been a red letter day.

The oncoming driver was closer than she'd calculated. She hung a hard right, cutting up a white Dodge minivan which had to ram on its brakes to avoid a collision. Letting the automatic transmission take over, she maintained her steady position in front of the minivan as the traffic slowed for the overhead lights ahead.

The white Dodge minivan pulled into the right turn lane and halted beside her.

"You could have killed my kids," the mom yelled at her.

Hannah's convertible encouraged the exchange. She yelled back, "I still can, if you want me to."

"You rude girl," the blond mother yelled, red in the face. "I had to brake for my life when you barged your way in."

"There was plenty of space," Hannah countered, even though there hadn't been.

"Sure, after I made it for you. You're a dangerous lunatic."

Picking up a toy from the floor of her cabin, the older woman waved it out the window, "Everything went all over the place because of you."

Revved up by her sporty car and red-hot day, Hannah shouted back, "You should store it better." She didn't appreciate having her driving criticized.

"You think you're so great in your little sporty thing. Your driving was far too aggressive. Try having kids and being responsible," the blond woman yelled.

"No thanks," she chucked back. She couldn't see the kids behind the tinted glass, but imagined they could hear the exchange. The lights cut off the rest of the pointless argument. Dropping her long bare leg, she accelerated away. Glancing down at her sexy bare legs, she didn't feel quite so sexy. After leaving work on a high, the altercation had ruined her afternoon.

She didn't remember every word. But she remembered offering to kill the woman's kids. 'I still can, if you want me to,' bounced around her head. She didn't mean it and should never, ever, have said it, and not in front of the kids. She peeked again at her long bare legs, ashamed of herself, and let her Mini veer into the oncoming lane. The blast of a truck horn brought her back to her senses, and she kept her eyes on the road.

She'd needed to cut in, but that didn't excuse it. The other woman had overreacted, but the fault had begun with her driving. The other woman shouldn't have accused her of almost killing her kids, but it was no excuse for offering to still do it. That was disgraceful.

Tainted by her behavior, her bright red suit had lost some of its luster. It had taken her less than a mile to feel shit and half a mile more to reach home. She pulled up next to Tom's blue Audi in front of the double garage.

"Is that everything?" Tom asked.

"Yes," she replied, standing in their home office. It was a lovely bright room overlooking the golf course behind their house. They each had a desk. She'd dumped her computer and handbag on hers, but had remained standing while she confessed her drive home.

He looked up at his penitent girlfriend. He knew what she wanted, but it was his responsibility to impose it on her.

"A quick 'sorry,' and a polite confirmation you agreed with her, would have defused the situation. You'd have felt better too."

"I know," she groaned. "I wish I had."

 He looked at her, letting his silence weigh heavy on her. "You need caning."

"Make me sorry," she replied. It was what she wanted. She loved him for not making her ask. She was ashamed enough already. It had been hard to confess what she'd said.

She saw a slight smile cross his face.

Before she could ask what had made him smile, he instructed, "Put your Mini in the garage and I'll meet you there."

She parked her car on one side of the garage. There was plenty of space.

When she'd hit the remote for the door, he'd already been standing inside. Nobody else could see what he was holding beside him. She could, but she didn't need to.

Hitting the close button for the garage door, she got out of her car as the door rolled down behind her. Adjusting her tight red miniskirt, she stood next to her car.

"Take off that sensational skirt. Keep the jacket on, it will remind you of your behavior."

She reached behind her, unzipped and eased her miniskirt down. Stepping out of it, she leaned into the convertible and placed it on the driver's seat. The front of her tailored red jacket revealed some of her shiny black vest top and covered the waistband of her black cotton string panties.

"Bend over the front wing of your car," he commanded, tapping the paintwork with the tip of the cane.

She reached over and planted her red forearms on the dark green hood of her Mini, presenting her bare bottom for punishment. Her string offered her modesty, but no protection.

The cane tapped her bare flesh.

"Two strokes," he announced.

It was lenient. Very lenient. She'd expected a full six strokes or even more.

A brief whistle, as the cane cut through the air, landed in her ears as pain exploded across both her cheeks. She thrust her hands flat on the green metal and pressed her hips into the car to shift the pain. Nothing helped. It hurt, and she deserved it. Her words, in front of the kids, went around her mind. She pushed her sore bottom out to welcome her punishment. He should thrash her for what she'd said.

The cane cracked across her bottom. An intense line of stinging fury burned into her bottom. She accepted the pain and held herself still while it burrowed deep into her bottom and punished her.

"Stand up," he ordered.

She obeyed.

"Every evening this week, you'll park in here, remove your skirt or pants, and I will deliver another two strokes."

His wisdom smothered her. She'd known two strokes was not enough. She resolved to always trust him. He knew how to punish her. A lengthy period of punishment to keep her in line was appropriate.

"Thank you," she said.

"This is pure punishment," he warned. "There will be no sex until it's over on Friday."

Riven with respect for his tough stance, she said, "Understood."

Being caned every day would give little time for her weals to heal. The pain would increase through the week, each night far more difficult as he added fresh soreness to her punished bottom. There would be no quick escape from what she'd done, and she didn't deserve it. Admiring his ingenuity, she was now glad it was only two strokes each night.

"I won't play with myself either. I don't deserve to get pleasure from my pain until you've completed my full punishment."

She wanted to show him she understood she was under punishment. Denying herself masturbation was tough, but she would revel in the richness of her suffering when it became hard and obey herself. It would be a meaningful, painful and stressful five days.

Her red suit tainted by her attitude, she chose sober black, gray and blue skirt suits all week. Her blouses were white, pink or light blue. She kept her black heels on in the garage. She'd often wear string bikini panties under her skirts, but Monday's caning had set a standard she intended to honor. Each day she wore only a string and took the cane on her bare bottom.

On Wednesday it was a pink cotton string under her black suit. She bent across her hood, pleased to be in position again. The regular caning was having a salutary effect. She felt more contrite and more decent as each day he added more pain.

He caned her low on her bare cheeks. Each day the center of her pain moved and expanded.

She used her turn signal and drove with care into the grocery store parking lot, her Thursday night caning enforcing perfect motoring etiquette. She needed to get milk on the way home.

It wasn't only her admiring her cute convertible as she carried a gallon of whole milk back to her car. The woman parked opposite was studying it, while packing her shopping into the back of her white Dodge minivan.

Hannah froze. Her brain slow to process the scene.

"You!" the woman exclaimed at Hannah, looking ready to renew their argument.

In her navy suit and light blue blouse, she walked straight up to the blond lady and put out her hand, "I'm so sorry. I'm Hannah."

Defeated by the unexpected charm, the lady shook her hand, "Mary," she said.

"I'm sorry for how I behaved the other day. Could we sit together for a moment?"

The blond lady was shorter than her. In mom jeans and a white blouse, she looked Hannah up and down for a moment, still shocked by the change.

"Let's sit in my car," she suggested.

Hannah climbed into the passenger seat of the minivan and glanced in the back to check there were no children.

Mary saw her and said, "They're at a play date. It's a chance to get the shopping done."

"Mary, I drove home on Monday feeling terrible. I'm so sorry for what I said about your children. It was rude, offensive and unbecoming. I don't know what came over me. I'm also sorry about the way I drove. All I should have said was 'You're right and I'm sorry'"

"Thank you, Hannah, I'm sorry we had such a row too. It didn't make me feel any better," Mary replied, smiling. "I have to say, you don't seem at all like the girl in the car on Monday, it quite surprised me when you approached me with such gracious manners just now."

She looked at Mary. She was maybe five years older than her. "I deal with my mistakes. I didn't always. My boyfriend helps me," she said. She could see she'd gone too far and not far enough. Mary's look was questioning. "My boyfriend has caned me for my behavior on Monday. It still hurts, but I feel better about myself," she explained. It felt right to admit she'd had the cane and Mary deserved to hear it.

"Not what I expected to hear!" Mary laughed. "It's done you a lot of good."

"It has," Hannah agreed.

"I've read about it, but never met someone who got punished like that," Mary said. "There's a bestselling book about it. It might be a sexy book or an authentic story, I haven't read it."

"Blazing Trails," Hannah nodded. She was well aware how popular it had become.

"Yes, that's the one."

"It's both," Hannah explained. "It changed my life. The girl gets painful discipline when she needs it. It leads to a lot of sex, but it's about holding yourself to account."

"Is that what you do?" Mary asked.

"Yes. I went home and told my boyfriend about our run-in and everything I said. He caned me and I wanted him to." She didn't feel the need to explain she was still under punishment until tonight, or that she was beyond desperate for hot, sweaty sex. She swapped numbers with Mary and agreed to coffee soon.

For the last time, she bent over her car, this time in her navy jacket and a white cotton string. The cane slashed her sore cheeks right over where she'd taken Monday's strokes. The pain multiplied and blossomed. She thought of her chat with Mary. She was proud to be a girl who bent over. The cane added to her pain for the last time, but the brutal stroke and immense suffering brought her total closure.

Drained of emotion, she whispered, "Thank you."

Her caned cheeks on display for him, she walked tall to their bedroom, stripping on the way. Following close behind, he undressed too.

"I need you," he growled.

"Not as much as I need you." Her voice dripped with desperation.

She dropped the clothes she'd removed on a chair in the bedroom. It was time to be naked with her man. Finding him hard as a rock, she pushed him back on the bed and said, "I'm on top."

Climbing onto his hard body, she drew him into her. Her desperation poured out of her as her slicked sex slid down his hard shaft. She'd told him about her humble chat with Mary. Pride in her justified embarrassment had turned her on, but she'd not been able to enjoy any pleasure until now.

"I apologized," she moaned, as she thrust herself down him. "She knows you caned me. I deserved my embarrassment and shame," she panted.

"You had to face up to her with a sore bottom." He rammed his hardness deep inside her and she gripped him tight.

She'd punished herself hard by admitting her caning to Mary, but it had felt stunning to be honest with the woman she'd wronged.

"I should have caned you in front of her," he growled, lifting himself deep into her.

Her tight sex clenched him and she rode him. Abandoning all control, she yelled, "You should have beaten me in front of her. She'd have seen my bottom bared and beaten."

Her delayed pleasure burst its banks as he thrust deep into her. He came, and she lost control. Orgasms tumbled and spilled, thrashing through her core. Shuddering down on top of him, she landed on his hard body and he wrapped her in his powerful arms.

She breathed in his ear, "I'd have accepted being punished in front of her, if you'd made me. Thank you for making me sorry."