« Spanking Stories

"Come in," Sam said, opening her front door to Alison in her work uniform - short black shorts, crisp white Nike Air Max and a bright sports bra, today's was red. Although it was a practice session, it must feel real.

"This feels weird. We've shared a lot together, but this is a first," Sam smiled, handing Alison a bottle of water in the kitchen. She was about to cane her friend, hard. It was generous of Alison to offer herself up as a guinea pig, but gratitude wasn't the way to handle things today.

"Let's keep it professional," Alison said. "You need this to be genuine and so do I. Have you been practicing?"

"Yes," Sam nodded. "Josh gave me lessons and made me practice with a black pillow case. He rubbed chalk on the cane so I could see where it landed. I'm quite good at keeping it tight now, but it's all in the emotions, as we well know."

"You must punish me for real. I expect it. We both know I can take an exceptional caning. You mustn't let feelings get in the way or I can't give you honest feedback."

"Agreed, but do you deserve to be caned today?"

Alison had thought about this on the way over, but there wasn't anything on her mind. She'd racked her brain hoping for a minor sin she could feel devastated about, but it seemed life was ticking along just fine.

The mid-morning sunshine caught Sam's blond ponytail. Struck by inspiration and determined not to let her friend down, Alison stepped forward, snaked her hand around Sam's neck and gave her high ponytail a good tug.

"Ouch!" Sam cried, tipping her head away from the assault and massaging her scalp. "Right. In the gym, Alison. This is going to hurt."

Sam rolled her green mat out on the gym floor, "Face me," she said.

Alison felt it. The strict demand and the powerful pull of obedience. Sam's sharp switch of attitude had done it well. She faced Sam, hands clasped in front of her.

"You need caning, Alison. That juvenile prank was beneath you. You'll feel better when we're done. I want ten excellent push-ups. Hold at the top each time, to receive the cane. You concentrate on your push-ups and I'll take care of your punishment. You'll feel like pausing when you're down, but it hurts more to wait. It's better to push up and take your strokes. Questions?"

"No," Alison said. Sam's scolding had made her feel dreadful about herself. She welcomed her coming punishment. She needed it to put things right.

"Assume the position," Sam ordered, pointing to the mat.

Alison kicked off her flat white Keds Champion sneakers and took up position on the mat, ready to offer her bottom in thin gray shorts to the cane.

"Begin," Sam commanded.

Alison lowered herself to the floor and rose back up, taking the pain in her arms, determined to respect her punishment. The cane tapped her bottom. She held still. A blazing line of agony seared straight through her shorts.

She lowered herself with grace, taking her punishment with her as it disciplined her hard. The definitive stroke had landed right in the middle of her bum. Sam was expert and easy to obey. Clients who were used to following her lead would find her easy to obey.

Remembering Sam's advice, she pushed back up, her biceps arguing all the way, and got sliced hard. Fire tore a painful weal across her butt. Pulling Sam's hair had been pathetic. She deserved to hurt like hell. Her remorse boosted her pride.

"You're doing well, Alison. I hope it's hurting," Sam said, her tone both strict and warm.

"It is. Thank you," she gasped. Under her shorts, her gray cotton string was ensuring maximum pain. Even though she was here to help Sam, a girl who had to be caned should get it hard, no matter what. It was her duty to do everything in her power to contribute to her punishment and make it as painful as possible.

All her strength and self-respect went into completing her ten honest push-ups. The cane delivered devastating and deserved pain, each stroke right beside the last. Sam had planted a tight pattern of pain on the peak of her bum.

She rose for the ultimate time, ashamed of her mean prank and pumped with respect for Sam. Her friend had punished her without mercy. The rattan seared a deep mark into her disobedient behind and she collapsed on the mat, panting, her biceps and bottom on fire.

"Stand up, Alison."

Endorphins rushed through her brain as she obeyed. Exquisite pain delivered a storm of emotions. All her thoughts gushed out at once, giving her friend honest feedback as she revealed her bottom for inspection in the mirror beside the weights bench.

Pulling up her shorts, steeped in respect, she looked Sam in the eye, adopted a formal stance, and said, "Thank you for caning me. I deserved it."

"My pleasure. I hope it helps," she grinned. "You took it very well. I'm impressed by your push-ups. You were very straight."

Alison burst into a grin and rubbed her bottom. It was high praise indeed from Sam.

"Thanks for helping me. It was generous and humble of you," Sam said. "I going to try it with a client this week." She already knew which one.

The Romanian wind whipped over the wheat, bending the stalks as Nina walked the boundary of her family farm, contemplating her dilemma. Her nut brown shoulder length hair whipped behind her as she headed with purpose into the wind.

She knew a friend who could help her, but it had been years since they'd spoken. She hadn't intended to let their friendship lapse. But when her mom had died, she'd returned to the farm to help her dad raise her younger sister. Months had become years. Now it felt too long to pick up the phone and explain her sudden disappearance after college.

'BattleWeek' was her route to freedom. She just needed to launch her online game, and for that she needed money. A lot of money.

When her sister had joked there were no goblins in their fields of wheat, she'd visualized threats and characters appearing in the fields before her. The idea had become the basis for the first level of BattleWeek.

Her sister had been the first to play her game. After many fraught attempts, she'd survived her first day in the fields of wheat and battled on to complete her first week. There was a period of calm at the end of each week in battle. How you used it defined your strength in the following week. This unusual variant had gone down a storm with the tiny test audience she'd built through gaming forums.

After piling every waking moment into programming BattleWeek, she'd launched an early version of it, running on a minuscule rented server. The expense had been worth it.

The game was addictive at every level, but nobody had yet discovered the secret to the period of calm. She'd stoked discussion about it by refusing to comment on it. Someone would figure it out, someday. But for now, only she knew the way to win. She had an addictive game, but knowing it was a long way from proving it to money people.

She'd fought hard to get two reluctant meetings with game financiers. They were two weeks apart, and she couldn't afford to stay in a global financial city for two weeks. She could only just afford the airfare. She knew someone she could stay with, but could she call Alison after all this time and ask such a big favor?

Her dad would soon harvest the real fields of wheat. Gazing across their acres, she thought about him. He could manage now Tatiana was older. She loved her sister. But she needed to set herself free.

Alison settled her stinging bottom behind the wheel of Adam's yellow Lamborghini. Sam had thrashed her, and she was very sore, but on a thorough high. Her phone paired with the car, her bottom with the bucket seat. Her tight caning had already put her in a reflective mood. She was going to have an uncomfortable day. That was the price of helping a friend, and it wouldn't do her any harm.

The engine started with a throaty roar and she set off. She was crawling through the suburban streets at a slow growl when her phone rang. The car screen showed a +40 country code. She didn't recognize it. It was likely to be some junk sales call. Curious none the less, she tapped to answer.

"Hi. It's Alison," she said.

A faint sound of wind came through the car speakers and her world turned upside down. The soft Romanian voice she remembered so very well, said, "Hi Alison, it's Nina."

"Nina," she screamed. She hadn't heard from her college roommate in over three years. "Oh, my god. Hang on. Let me pull over. I'm driving a stupid car."

She peered over the steering wheel, spotted a home improvement store with a large parking lot, turned in, pointed the nose into the corner and stopped.

"Are you still there?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm here," Nina said.

"Oh, my god. I've missed you so much. How are you? Where are you? Can I see you?"

Shocked by the stunning welcome, Nina processed the questions at warp speed. "Okay. Romania. Next week, if that's okay with you?"

"You're coming here?"

"If you'll have me. I need somewhere to stay. For two weeks, maybe more."

"Stay with me."

"You haven't asked why."

"I don't care. Stay with me as long as you want. Stay forever."

"Oh Alison. It's so good to hear your voice. I've missed you in the most desperate way. It's been hard, very hard."

"Talk, babe. Tell me everything."

Nina filled her in on raising her sister, the chaos her mother's death had wrought on the family, helping her father run the farm and last, but not least, BattleWeek and her upcoming finance meetings.

Alison listened. She adored Nina, always had. The years didn't change a thing. "Message your flight number and I'll send a car to collect you."

"Thank you so much, Alison. I appreciate it more than you know."

"You may not," Alison paused for effect. "Usual rules apply."

"You don't know how good it is to hear those words. I need it."

"See you next week. I can't wait," Alison said. Her face ached. She was grinning a full mile wide.

Adam had been out all day, looking at a company he might invest in. She was like a cat on hot bricks, bouncing around the house, finding anything to do, just waiting for him to come home and share her news. He didn't know what she'd been up to today or how her entire life had changed. He'd tried to persuade her to change her phone about a year ago. She was so glad she'd refused. If she'd changed her number, she would never have got Nina's call.

By the time he arrived home, she was uncontainable.

"Nina's coming to stay next week."

He chucked his leather jacket on a chair in the hall, and said, "What?"

"Nina. Nina. Nina. She's coming to stay for a while."

"Fantastic. I didn't think you two were still in touch."

"Until a few hours ago, we weren't. She's as lovely as she always was. She just called me, right out of the blue on the way home from Sam's."

"Why now?"

"She's made an online game. I think it might be quite good because she's got two meetings with finance people in the city over the next fortnight, so she'll be staying with us for a while."

"Where's she been?"

Beaming from ear to ear, she explained Nina's return to Romania. The call had ripped through her day, upended her life and put it right back together.

"Does my excitable chick need to work off some of that excess energy?"

"Yes," she laughed. She tore up the stairs to the bedroom, ripped off her clothes, flung her bra aside and shed her panties.

"Who caned you?"

Coming in behind her, the sight of six neat red ridges in the middle of her bare bottom had confused him. She'd intended to tell him at bedtime, but Nina's call had dropped everything else from her mind, even her well-caned bottom. She explained Sam's new service and how she'd helped her friend. "I didn't think to tell you. I was just doing a favor for Sam."

"A hell of a favor. She's very accurate. Did it hurt?"

"Yes. It was hard. My arms hurt as much as my bottom. And now I've got face ache because I've been grinning so wide since hearing from Nina."

"Secrets are not our way," he warned, "but I'm going to forgive you. You would have told me if you hadn't been so excited about hearing from Nina."

"I would have. I'm sorry," she said.

"Come over here."

She obeyed. He held her arm, turned her to the side, bent her forward and landed four hard spanks, two on each bare cheek. His hard male hand reawakened her welts. The sudden spanking welled tears in her eyes, tears of love.

She turned to face him.

"That was a reminder of who disciplines you, and to not keep secrets. Consider yourself punished. You're one hell of a friend."

She smiled. He understood her. She'd needed him to not let her off, but she hadn't needed another spanking today. Her emotions had been all over the place, but he'd known just what to do. She rubbed her bare bum, and said, "Thank you for spanking me like that. I love you."

"I love you too." He pulled her into him and his rock hard manliness thrust against her bare skin.

"Take me," she whispered.

He scooped her up and deposited her naked on the bed. While she crawled under the covers, he shed his clothes, leaving only his tight white boxers.

As he climbed into bed with her, she slid his manhood from his shorts and slithered down the bed. She took him in her mouth, pleasuring him with her tongue until he thrust hard to the back of her throat and came, bucking in her mouth.

She swallowed his seed, licking him clean, climbed back up the bed and lay beside him.

His hand cupped her sizzling sex. His spanking without warning had thrust obedient heat through her. There had been no words or discussion, just four authoritative spanks on her bare bottom. Her fire hadn't abated. His fingers teased her clit, forcing her against her breaking point. Holding her poised, he whispered, "Did it feel good to be caned by your friend?"

"God, yes. She was hard on me," she panted.

He circled her, keeping her on the very edge of possibility.

"And now another girl who has disciplined you is coming to stay."

"I know," she breathed. "I told her usual rules apply."

"Did you now? That was wise."

"Yes. But it cuts both ways," she groaned.

"So you must strap her hands and face the strap yourself."

"Yes. Don't stop," she begged.

Teetering on the brink of release, she listened to his voice.

"Warn her that while she's staying here, she's subject to discipline from me."

"I will," she cried, as his hard tone and firm finger flung her over the edge. She writhed in the bed, tormenting her sore bottom as she processed her pleasure, letting the day and all her storming emotions wash over her.

"Is that a firm yes?" he grinned.

"It is. I'll warn her. She respects rules. From the little she's said, I think she's had to be in charge for way too long and might need a firm hand."

"How good do you think this game might be in reality?"

As best she could remember, she reeled off the stats Nina had given to her.

"They played for twelve hours straight?"

She'd seen that look before. It was the focused look he'd had when she'd first met him.

"I think so. You'll have to ask her."

"I will."