« Spanking Stories

Alison heard Adam's key in the door and caught her reflection in the hall mirror as she rushed to meet him. Her black skinny jeans molded her legs and butt like she was born for them. Her crisp white tee and flawless white socks made the perfect picture of a girl-next-door.

And she was the girl-next-door. She'd moved straight in with Adam and made friends with both his female neighbors from the start. One had carried a few boxes inside, while the other had introduced herself, laden down by an impressive raspberry-dream cake. The layers of moist vanilla and fresh raspberry had been the perfect complement to their subtle interrogation.

Adam closed the door behind him, his gaze locked on the cane. Its threatening presence on the hall table thrilled her, as did his smile.

"I've been shopping," she said.

He ran his fingers along the flexible wood. "Did you enjoy buying it?"

"Yes. I pretended you'd sent me for it, that I had no choice."

They'd talked last night about the gym shoe which had brought them together in dramatic fashion, and the belt which had sealed their first date. Both spankings were noisy, requiring hard force to have the correct effect. The cane had been his suggestion. Visceral fear and delight had gripped her.

Hot, and a little embarrassed, she'd approached the sex shop this morning in her crisp outfit. The dizzying array of spanking toys and magazines had led her to the handcuffs on the back wall. Next to them had stood a tall glass vase filled with canes of various lengths and thickness.

"There were two guys in there," she said, "they both checked out my bum as I carried the cane to the counter. I imagined I'd been bad beyond words and deserved the public shame. When I watched the assistant putting the cane in a tube, all I could think about was you flexing it in front of me."

She didn't tell him the vision had obsessed her all the way back to the parking garage and all the way home.

He picked the cane off the table and flexed it between his hands. "Like this?" he asked, smiling, as it sprung straight.

Vicious heat poured wetness into her fresh white cotton panties. "Just like that."

Flicking the cane, he asked, "Have you done anything you deserve to be punished for?"

"No, I don't think so."

It was a lie. Despite her clean-cut outfit, she'd been anything but wholesome this morning.

He walked over to the stairs. "Okay, I'll put it somewhere safe."

His jeans tight on his bum, she watched as he climbed the stairs, the cane in hand.

Before he reached the top stair, her heart pounded and goosebumps burst across her bare arms.

"I lied," she called  

His question had tugged at her obedient mind, and her heart had taken over.

He returned, stood in front of her and looked down. "Shall we try again?"

She shuffled her feet and looked at the floor. "In the car, on the way home, I wasn't concentrating on driving. It started in the parking garage. Nobody could see me. I was in the car with empty cars all around. I touched myself through my jeans. Carrying the cane through town had made me horny as hell."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"No, but then I drove out of the car park with my jeans undone. I played with myself through my panties at every red light, and while driving."

"Did you hit anything?"

"No. I wasn't concentrating on the road, but I didn't have an accident."

"Did you come?"

"No, well, not until I got home. I buttoned my jeans to get out of the car, but shoved them down as soon as I got inside. I leaned against the wall, just there," she pointed to a spot near the door, "and finished myself off."

"Your selfishness pleasure endangered other people and could have killed you."

"I know," she groaned. She met his gaze and shivered, "I'm sorry."

"You need caning, Alison. Drop your jeans."

She unbuttoned her jeans and push them to her knees.

"Right down," he said.

She bent, complied, and faced her boyfriend in her white cotton panties.

"Are those the same panties you had on this morning?" he asked.

His question pulsed hot pleasure into her fresh cotton. "No, I had to change them." Her sex clenched at her admission.

"Were they white too?"

God, he wasn't letting her off. Her sex lapped up the focus on her innocent underwear. "Yes," she admitted.

"Three strokes of the cane for wanton and dangerous behavior." He wouldn't cane her hard, but she wouldn't realize. Any strokes would be a shock, given she'd never experienced the cane.

"Stand where you played with yourself this morning and face the wall."

She shuffled to the spot of her sensational release.

"Bend over and touch your toes."

A visceral internal conflict erupted. Her sex screamed its approval and dampened her panties while fear electrified her spine. Respect for him flooded her as she stepped back from the wall a little way and bent forward. Her fingertips touched her white cotton socks, and she offered him her disobedient panty-clad bottom.

"If you move position, I'll repeat the stroke and punish you further. Is that clear?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice strained. Determined not to let him down, she reminded herself it was her duty as a good girlfriend to take her punishment. The cane was going to hurt, but it was fair and she deserved it.

The rattan stick lined up across her taut cotton. She pressed her fingertips hard into the toes of her white cotton socks, trying not to imagine it and failing.

White hot pain seared her behind and stunned her into stillness. Blazing heat lanced her backside. It was brutal, but not unkind. Her driving could have resulted in a serious accident. She could have killed someone or herself. Selfish pleasure wasn't worth that. Swamped in shame at her careless behavior, the pain dissipated into sharp hurt and intense heat.

The rattan tapped her bottom, moving lower. The cane bit deep into her soft skin, scorching a line of fierce pain across her cheeks. She couldn't even remember the journey home any more. She wrapped the pain in intense regret and let it sink in.

The cane whipped hard into her soft bottom, the loud crack and intense fury landed low on her bare skin. Fire sizzled her soft flesh and agony leaped through her. With fierce determination, she weathered the storm as the deep burn delivered its message.

It hurt like hell, a true punishment. Despite her throbbing bottom, she felt better. On their first date she'd tested him, chasing the high she got from fair discipline. But this was pure punishment, delivered and deserved. The matter was closed, her guilt erased and replaced with pain. She preferred pain.

"Stand up," he said. "Well done."

She shook her legs, a futile attempt to relieve the hurt in her behind. He enveloped her in his arms and spread his large male hands over her hot cotton bottom. "I want to see," she said, breaking away from his warm embrace. She kicked her jeans from around her ankles and ran upstairs to the bathroom.

Three distinct red lines emerged from her white panties. She pushed them down to see more. Two neat punishment lines adorned her beautiful cheeks and one extra low where she'd sit. The lowest one hurt the most.

She'd had the cane, her bottom carried the proof. She was now a caned girl. With tentative fingertips, she touched the raised red marks. The ridges hurt as she traced the top one. Her man had caned her. It wasn't just his belt or a convenient gym shoe. He'd used an implement dedicated to the purpose. Now, she must endure her punishment for as long as it hurt. Hot heat lanced her sex as she pulled her panties up and let the elastic snap hard against her fresh welts.

She returned to the hall and faced him. "Thank you. I deserved to be caned. Thank you for being tough on me. I'm sorry it was necessary."

Thanking her man for caning her blew her sex into overdrive. She reached for him as he dragged her to the floor, his hand asserting control in her panties. His firm finger demanded obedience from her willing clit.

"You used the cane on me," she panted.

"I did. And I'll do it again, often."

"Often," she panted, as he held her on the edge of orgasm.  

Through her cotton, her welts rubbed against the thick weave of the carpet. The rough sensation enhanced her desperation. "Don't stop," she begged.

He flung her into a flood of pleasure. She clamped her thighs on his hand to hold her orgasms in as they thrust in waves through her sex, washing away her guilt, calming her mind and releasing her back to the hot pain in her caned backside.

She ripped open his belt, unbuttoned his denim, and slipped her hand into his white boxers. His desire overflowed her small hand. He shifted, so she could push his jeans and underwear out of the way.

His powerful arms held him over her and she guided him inside.

He couldn't believe the girl he'd admired for so long was naked and caned on their floor. He penetrated her, holding her tight against him as she gripped his hardness deep inside her.

"You took your caning well," he gasped.

"It hurt like hell," she said, "still does."

"Good," he grunted. "I've punished you. It should hurt for several hours at least."

"How long will my lines last?" she groaned.

He scrapped her sore bottom on the carpet as he thrust his need deep inside her.

"They'll go by tomorrow. I could have caned you harder. In future I will."

Her sex and mind screamed for no mercy as he held her against the edge of pleasure with his hard promise. She gripped his bum with fierce force and pulled him deeper still. He detonated his pleasure and triggered her wave of orgasms. She rode it down, thrusting hard against him until they both collapsed, exhausted, on the floor.

She slipped her hand into his. "I'll respect the cane and fear it."

"You're a good girl," he said, "but there's still the matter of you lying to me."