« Spanking Stories

"He's so fucking hot," Tatiana said as she slid the open magazine across the dinner table, oblivious of her father's disapproval. Nina wasn't. The ad for men's jeans had obsessed Tatiana all day. The model had an incredible six-pack and rock-hard thighs. Naked from the waist up, his brooding look had made a powerful impression on her sister.

Nina acknowledged the picture and changed the subject. She would enjoy drooling over the hard male specimen with her sister, or any hard male specimen, but she'd caught her father's frown of disapproval. Tatiana seemed to care more about her emotions than how she conveyed them.

They polished off the beef stroganoff Nina had re-heated. Romanian beef and Hungarian paprika was always a winning combination. The farm cook made breakfast every morning, left a large fresh salad for lunch, and provided something substantial for dinner most nights. Nina appreciated her presence. The ready-prepped food helped smooth the running of the household.

After Tatiana had left the table, her father turned to her, "Do you find Tatiana's language acceptable?" His opinion was implicit in his tone.

"No, father. I'll deal with it."

"Thank you. She uses foul language far too often."

"Understood," Nina said.

They talked about her online game. She's been designing it for well over a year. Her father wanted to understand how BattleWeek would make money, so she explained the business model of mega online games and how hers worked.

Two different players who'd tested her game had played for over twelve hours straight. Was it addictive? She'd dared to dream.

"I've got to meet with our neighbor," he said when the conversation came to a natural close. His chair scraped on the porcelain floor tiles as he stood up. "I'll be late home. See you at breakfast."

Nina cleared the table and stacked the dishwasher. Her father's message had been clear. He required her to punish her sister. She had a duty to obey him. Her sister's language had been blatant. She deserved to feel the strap burn her sensitive palms.

The kitchen sorted, she went into the lounge. Her sister was lying on her front, spread across the couch watching Next Top Model. Her tight white tee and navy cotton shorts advertised her bold curves.

Sitting on the arm of the chair next to Tatiana's head, she said, "Turn it off, please." Her strict tone brooked no debate.

Tatiana was no stranger to that tone. When her older sister used it, it wasn't to be ignored. She reached for the remote and powered the TV off.

"Father is unimpressed by your language." She had Tatiana's attention. "It's been getting worse. You seem to include an expletive in every third sentence. He expects me to strap you."

A resigned look overtook Tatiana's face. "That bad?" she asked.

"Yes. You've crossed the line. You used 'fucking' at the dinner table."

"Shit."

"There you go again."

Tatiana was silent. She sat up and looked at her older sister, "I just made your point for you, didn't I?"

"Yup," Nina nodded, holding back a wry smile.

"Dad ordered it?"

"Not in so many words. But, yes. I'm sorry but you've earned a spanking."

"One of my guy friends commented on my language last weekend. Now, father. I didn't realize I'd got this bad."

"It's okay to be emotional and to express it, but there are plenty of words in any language to express yourself without having to resort to swearing."

"Sorry," Tatiana said. "I guess I need spanking, don't I?"

"Yes," Nina said, "but I'm pleased we could discuss it in peace. You're not a bad girl. Fetch the strap."

Tatiana got up and went to the side table. She'd let down her father down, her sister and herself. Even her friends had noticed her language. She lifted the heavy leather from the drawer. If her father had ordered her strapping, she deserved it.

She met Nina in the middle of the room and handed over the leather. "I'm very sorry."

Nina laid the leather back over her right shoulder and left it there. She took Tatiana's small hands in hers. "I love you, sis. We both do our best to be good. Thank you for making this easy for me."

"It's my fault," Tatiana said, tears welling. "Please stop being so kind and beat me hard."

Nina let go of her sister's hands and gripped the handle of the strap resting on her shoulder. She hardened her tone, "Your language had been atrocious. You should be ashamed of how you're coming across. In front of father, it's unacceptable. Your standards have fallen way below what's expected."

Eyes dry, Tatiana looked up in appreciation at her sister's severe scolding.

"Hold out your hand," Nina commanded.

Tatiana obeyed, her soft white upturned palm offered flat in front of her eyes. She held her hand still, despite knowing what was coming.

The leather flashed in front of her eyes and lashed into the tender flesh of her palm. A cry escaped her lips. It stung in a thousand places. Intense pain overtook her hand, her soft skin on fire.

"That jeans model is a definite hunk, but it isn't necessary to use foul words to convey how hot you find him."

Tatiana accepted the point. It was fair. Her sex heated at thoughts of the model's hard body. Stiffening her arm, she straightened her palm. This stroke was her apology to him for serious disrespect.

The strap stung her palm, laying heat on top of heat. Intense pain funneled through her. She accepted the pain and held still for more. She'd let everyone down, her hunk included.

The strap cracked across her burning skin. She'd watched it land with fury, fire pulsing through her tender skin. Deserved shame ignited her sex.

"Other hand," Nina ordered.

Obeying her strict sister sent hot pleasure into her panties. Her nipples shot out and showed, her tight tee displaying her heightened state.

Nina said nothing. She'd suspected her sister got turned on by discipline. She shot the strap down hard across her sister's naked palm. It wasn't a lesson unless it hurt.

Tatiana winced and screwed up her face as heat radiated from her soft skin. The strap burst fresh hurt across her reddened hand. Her sex met her mind and her self-respect soared. The leather scorched pain into her disciplined palm, delivering her last stroke with fury. Panting, she held her hand still in dignified silence.

"Well done," Nina said. "You should be proud of how well you took that. You're forgiven."

"Thank you," Tatiana said, her hands burning by her sides. She flexed them open and closed. It made no difference. They hurt like hell.

Handing the strap to her sore sister, Nina said, "Put this away and go to bed. I'll come up and see you soon."

At the door, Tatiana turned, "Thank you, sis. You're very fair."

Nina smiled. She knew Tatiana felt corrected. She'd felt it herself many times. It was cathartic. With hands that sore, her sister couldn't help being flooded with respectful, calm obedience.

Nina took the jug from the fridge and poured two glasses of real lemonade. Their cook kept a steady supply. They'd grown up on it and never once tired of it. She carried the full glasses upstairs, nudged her sister's half-open door with a thick-socked foot, and put one down on the bedside.

Picking it up with her fingertips, Tatiana said, "You didn't go easy on me."

"You wouldn't thank me if I did."

"You're right. I feel better. It's stupid, isn't it? - I hurt and all I want to do is thank you for strapping me."

"It's okay. I understand. Remember, I've had my fair share of strappings. It was good for me too."

"Does it turn you on?" Tatiana asked.

Tangible silence hung between them. Sex and men were common topics, but the sudden direct question had opened a whole new level.

"Yes," Nina said.

"Spanking me?"

"No," Nina said, "when I got dealt with." Her sex tightened at the memory.

"Being made to do as I'm told, even by you, makes me squirm," Tatiana said. "I wouldn't mind if a man was hard on me like that."

"You're not crazy. I feel the same."

"Has a man strapped you?"

Nina's mind relished the vision. "No. But I'd respect him if he did."

"Me too. I wouldn't mind at all. I need it. It hurts like hell, but I feel dealt with and turned on by being made to take my punishment."

In fact, her black cotton panties were wet. She'd given herself a quick rub before her sister had arrived, enough to keep her on edge.

"For me," Nina said, "the more ashamed I am, the more turned on I get by the pain. It doesn't prevent it being agony, just well-deserved agony."

"I know. Am I crazy to love being hurt?"

"No, silly. Not in the slightest. It's not the hurt you love. It's being made to face your mistakes and being forced to take a little unpleasantness as penance. If it didn't hurt, it wouldn't mean anything."

Tatiana smiled.

Nina had settled her sister and made her feel good about herself. The conversation had also turned her on. She put her glass on the chest of drawers, went over to the bed, leaned down and kissed her sister on the cheek.

Tatiana looked up. "I love you for staying with me these last few years. You're an amazing sister. But you can't put your life on hold forever. I'm very grateful to have you here, but soon you must go."

Tears trickled down Nina's face, unbidden. "Mom would be proud of you, Tatiana." She sat on her sister's bed and hugged her as doubts about her future surfaced again. "I hope BattleWeek is worth something."

"It is," Tatiana insisted, breaking away. "I know it. I'm not just saying that because you're my sister. It's right out there."

Her sister's words spun in her head. She didn't just have to design and code the game, she had to market it as well. Everything was a potential marketing phrase. She'd driven Tatiana mad, testing ideas on her. Reinvigorated by her sister's confidence, she walked towards the door visualizing large bold letters and spun back.

"BattleWeek - Don't Stay In. Get Out."

Tatiana punched the air, "Yes!"

Motivated by her older sister's passion, Tatiana's mind settled on the hunk in the magazine. Unimpressed by her language, he stood up from the log he was sitting on, towered over her and ordered her to hold out her hand.

Her fingertip circled her clit as she imagined him ripping his thick leather belt from his pants and cracking it between his hands. She obeyed him and held out her palm to be thrashed. The supreme pain from the hard leather put her in her place and he ordered her other hand into battle.

Pleasure pulsed against her finger as he lashed the belt down onto her fresh palm, and her respect for him soared. She came hard and fast. Orgasms pulsed in delicious waves of pleasure. There was nothing wrong with decent discipline, or her.

At the desk in her bedroom, Nina darkened the shadow under her new slogan. The website background was the field of wheat which defined the game. Emblazoned across the top stood her new high-drama words.

Excited, she leaned back, unzipped her jeans and slid her hand into her pale yellow panties. The chat with her sister had turned her on. She circled her clit with a light touch. Able to see her timetable on the wall above. Shame drenched her. She was two weeks behind schedule. By now, her focus should be on finance. She needed capital to scale up and market BattleWeek.

Her mind pictured a willing financier in a black suit, high in the sky in his city office. She stood before him in her smart black pencil skirt and sharp blouse, being scolded for the delay. 'Hold out your hand, Nina,' he ordered.

She leaped out of her chair, shoved off her jeans, stripped naked and took her black suit and a white blouse from the wardrobe.

Clipping a delicate white lace bra in place, she stepped into her matching panties and buttoned the blouse over her breasts. Adding her pencil skirt, she pulled her black patent heels from the bottom of the wardrobe, shed her socks and slipped them on.

Drowning in delicious humiliation, she stood in front of the mirror for a formal dressing down. Before her stood a girl who'd failed to meet her targets. In front of the imaginary man who'd backed her, she bowed her head in shame.

She held out her left hand, palm open, and slipped her right one under the waistband of her tight skirt and down into her lace panties. In her mind, his heavy strap landed with blistering force, conveying his displeasure. Rubbing her clit hard, she imagined excruciating agony. Her nipples pressed against her bra. Their sensitive tips begged for relief, but both her hands were busy.

As his harsh scolding reached its peak, she rose on her toes and came hard, pouring pleasure into her tiny lace panties as she shuddered in deserved humiliation in front of the mirror.

Stepping from her skirt and taking off her blouse, she hung them back in the wardrobe, proud she'd put herself through a full, formal dressing down. Her self-respect restored, she closed her laptop and climbed into bed in her white lace panties.

She'd got this far alone, but she'd need help to make her game a success. If she could only get a financier to invest in her, she'd sure as hell respect him, and she'd accept his discipline because it would do her good. But the world didn't work that way.