« Spanking Stories

« Alison, Sam and Nina


18. New Idea

Spanking Story


A personal trainer does push ups, enhanced by her boyfriend's cane

«Beginning Part 19»

"It doesn't sting," Sam complained to Alison, facing her friend in her bedroom with her hand held out high. In black cotton shorts with white piping detailing and matching Lululemon sports bra, she adopted a look of mock disappointment.

"I didn't mean it to," Alison said, laying Sam's short leather punishment strap back on the bed. "It was a demonstration. Get Josh to strap your hands. You won't be complaining then."

"Tease," Sam said, grinning. She'd only wanted to understand how to do it. She'd noticed her friend's relaxed and obedient manner, recognizing the state as soon as she'd arrived. Until Alison had pointed it out, she hadn't noticed her friend's hands.

Holding her friend's fingers for a closer inspection of her palms, she said, "He didn't let you off."

"Course not. He never does. I deserved my punishment, and it's possible someone will notice."

"I doubt it, I didn't," Sam said. "Do you think I've been overconfident and arrogant too?"

"It would be hard to imagine how you couldn't have been, our book is at number one!"

"Careful," Sam warned. "Rein it in, sister."

"I'm proud as hell of our book, but I will try to be more humble."

"Me too, I think. Now, come and check out my gym. It's all finished," she pulled Alison towards the stairs.

The garage was now hers. She flicked on the bright spots and spun in the middle of her extra space. Black rubber tiles linked to form a perfect gym floor. Alison stepped onto the cushioned surface in her socks to admire the plethora of shiny equipment.

"Treadmill, cycle, cross-trainer, free weights and my Nordic strength trainer," Sam swept her arm at her high-end toys. Pulling a green mat from the shelf, she unfurled it with a flourish on the free area in front of the huge flat screen. "Even yoga on demand," she added.

"Impressive," Alison said. "It's amazing. Is Josh jealous of your huge TV?"

"I hadn't thought of that. Maybe I'll buy him an even bigger one for his birthday," she grinned.

"It's brilliant. It must have set you back a fair bit."

"My accountant said I could afford it and sent me a bonus check." It wasn't quite the truth, but the truth was more than she could handle right now. "It's the most money I've ever spent," she said, hurrying on. "Not having to go to the gym saves two hours a day. I could fit in a whole other client or two."

Alison smiled at her friend's never ending motivation. Sam's clients were household names. She didn't know who any of them were and Sam never let on, but she could guess at one or two.

"I've got to go," Alison said, "but I wanted to show you my hands while they were fresh. This is wonderful," she swept her hand around the gym, "I get why you were so excited about it."

"Thanks for sharing everything," Sam smiled. "I'll call tonight."

Sam turned on her Nordic strength trainer, took a handle in each hand, faced away and punched out, ripping the wires against their silent magnetic resistance.

Gripping the handles tight, she imagined having burning palms like Alison's. It would be an effective extension to her punishment, working her strength, cardio, and soul. Had she also been coming across as arrogant?

Alison had looped her into conversation with Alice North after her friend had emailed the famous author about her disciplined life. For weeks her hand had done overtime in her panties, explaining her principled mindset and punishments.

Ten days ago, they'd sat on Alison's lounge room floor refreshing the New York Times website Bestsellers List until it showed their book for the first time. It had gone straight in at number one. They couldn't claim the glory. It was Alice's work, but the story was theirs, even if nobody knew it.

She turned and hit the plus button, pumping up the resistance level. Each new thrust of her fist demanded more power, and she gave it.

Unbidden, yesterday morning's client came to mind. She'd snatched the girl's drink bottle and poured it away when she'd discovered it contained a sugar-based energy drink instead of water. Her arms collapsed and she let the wires recoil behind her. She'd been judgmental. To show professional disapproval was permissible, but it had been unprofessional to throw the drink away. The girl was a superstar and paid her good money to do a professional job. Respect was the least she deserved.

She moved to her treadmill, woke the touch screen and selected Paris, France. She ran along the river bank. There was nobody in the way. She crossed the Seine, weaving between passing pedestrians, and ran through the gardens to the Eiffel tower, her mind miles away.

She deserved to be disciplined. Josh must beat her unprofessional attitude and selfish arrogance out of her. She'd crossed the line in her job. Self-respect wouldn't let her get away with it. Returning along the other side of the Seine, she ran under the Arc de Triumph at sunset as he stepped into her gym.

"I don't want to stop you," he said with a grin.

Grateful to see him home, right when she needed him, she said, "Perfect timing," stepped off the track and grabbed a short white towel from the shelf. Drying her neck and arms, she hung it around her neck and flicked her high ponytail over it.

Sitting on her weight bench, she looked up and said, "I think I need you. Have I been arrogant or judgmental in the last few weeks?"

He thought before answering. "You've known what you think, that's for sure."

She told him about Alison's strapping for arrogance and explained her shameful incident with her client's drink.

"At the very least you've been less than professional," he said. "I suspect there have been other minor episodes of arrogance. It's your business, but you need a sharp lesson in humility, a painful one."

As he spoke, her gaze lowered to the cushioned floor. He was right. She appreciated the way he never interfered in her business, but on this occasion she needed him to.

"I need it," she muttered.

"Speak up," he said.

She looked up at him, "I need my arrogance thrashed out of me. I'm sorry."

"Do you have much left to do?" he asked.

"Just my push-ups."

He smiled. "Hold that thought. I'll make you humble. Give me a moment."

She grabbed an Evian from her silver mini-fridge, drank half, and did stretches to keep supple and warm. He returned with the cane, carrying it with such natural authority the sight calmed her.

"Get ready to do your push-ups. We're going to focus your mind."

The green mat was on the floor from earlier. She kicked off her white Nike Air Max sneakers and stood beside it.

"How many do you do?" he asked.

"Ten, at the end."

"Perfect," he said, "Each time you rise, hold in position while I cane you, then complete the next push up and wait for the cane again."

She smiled. It was ingenious and appropriate. A professional punishment for unprofessional behavior. She adopted the correct position. Her toes gripped the mat and her hands held her weight. She imagined how much more painful it could be with burning palms.

He said, "Start when you're ready."

Her mind snapped into focus. She lowered her body and raised herself in one smooth motion. A crack echoed around the gym. Sting blitzed her cheeks, burning a line of fiery shame through her soft cotton shorts. She sucked in a sharp breath, lowered herself with less keenness while the suffering spread. Her triceps burned as she allowed herself a moment.

Exchanging the burn in her upper arms for the next painful stroke, the rattan snapped across her shorts. Pain ripped along her left cheek, her right less so. As she lowered herself, she realized the low stroke had hit the white edge piping on her shorts, cushioning the blow for her right cheek.

"Remove your shorts," he said.

Kneeling, she eased them down, struggled out of them and retook the correct position. Suspended from slim pink side straps, her white and pink gingham string bikini panties were nice and tight for exercise, but provided slim protection from the cane. Being made to bare herself increased her dedication to her discipline.

"Hold your position," he reminded her.

The cane slashed a furious stroke into her skimpy underwear. She took her punishment and worked her muscles. Being caned in her panties in her own gym was a fitting lesson. She held herself low, the delay a false benefit as the sting intensified in her behind. Burn blossomed as her muscles stretched upon rising. Intense pain scorched her soft mounds. Her hard abdominal muscles handled her painful descent while she focused on her unprofessional attitude.

Pushing up into the cane, it rewarded her with stinging agony on her low bare cheeks. The fierce sting smarted as she lowered herself fast and pushed up straightaway to intensify her discipline. The cane bit into her bare skin, searing a band of fire to join her on her journey to the floor.

In rhythm with her punishment, she rose and took her strokes fair and square. Her sex approved of her acceptance, reveling in the humiliation of being caned while forced to workout. Turned on hard, sexy heat flooded her muscles.

Arms burning, bottom on fire, she pressed up for the last time. The cane struck her panties, searing a smoking line of agony across the middle of her bum. She lowered to the floor, her punished behind pressing her into the mat, and shoved her hand under herself.

Rolling onto her thrashed bottom. She panted, "Caned, hard," her hand busy in her tight panties. He undid his jeans and pushed them off, his blue tee gone in an instant.

Lying in black trunks on the rubber beside her, he watched her masturbate on her mat.

"I had to be hard on you," he said, freeing his manhood from his tight shorts and stroking himself.

"I took it," she exclaimed.

He lifted over her and slid aside her checkered panties.

Her sex engorged on his manhood. She looked up into his eyes, panting, "Thank you for caning my arrogance out of me. I was unprofessional and deserved it."

He thrust as she gripped his bum and buried him further. "I hope it was painful," he said.

"It was. Every hard stroke. I'll be humble for days," she gasped.

Pleasure balanced between her sex and brain, her welted bottom scraped against the mat, her panties scant protection. She'd done ten painful push ups and taken hard discipline. Her pride soared to new heights as she cried, "Thank you for caning me." Orgasms bore down from her mind, crashed through her sex and flooded her legs with ecstasy. As he came into her storm, her mind responded and thrust a further wave of pleasure into her exhausted body.

"The best workout ever," she exclaimed, as he flopped down beside her, "I'm refreshed and ready to kick ass."

She got up, sprayed her mat, wiped it and put it away. He was still lying exhausted on the gym floor. She looked down at him, rubbing her bum, "I should offer that to clients. Proper punishment to relieve guilt. Combined with hard exercise, it's an incredible rush."

He lay back and groaned, "The idea was to punish you, not empower you."

"It's done both," she said, offering him her hand.

"I love the way you think," he grinned, "and those are very sexy panties."

She smiled, grabbed her shorts and rushed upstairs to shower, her mind busy strategizing. As the water cascaded over her slim curves, she worked overtime. The piping water pounded her welts. She let it, bending forward to welcome the sting. The mental freedom which strict punishment gave back to her would benefit many of her clients. The idea of caning someone gave her pause, but the fire in her behind motivated her.

Drying herself as fast as her mind was moving, pricing ran through her head. Was it an extra layer of service or a whole new retainer fee? She stepped into a pair of black and gray striped cotton bikini panties, grabbed her phone off the sink unit and fingered the tiny black bow on the front of her panties as she waited for Alison to answer.

She babbled her idea to her friend at the speed her mind was moving.

Alison understood the cleverness of the challenge. "You can choose sore arms or a sore bum, but you have to accept one or the other," she said, "and neither is great in the moment."

"Yes. You get it," Sam exclaimed, thrilled her idea had met with approval.

"Can you cane well enough to risk trying this with clients?" Alison asked.

"I think so. I'm firm with them. But I can't afford to mess it up."

Alison took a breath, and said, "Why don't you try it on me?"

Alice's story is told in Blazing Trails