« Spanking Stories

"Out with it," Christina said to Lucas, sitting back and ignoring the view from her corner office. From the enormous factory, she had a view out over a hundred acres of flat, green farmland. She'd been sitting here when her headmaster had summoned both her and Amy. And when Dan had messaged her. She'd been here for much of the past nine months.

She observed the tall Harvard graduate who stood in the middle of her office. He'd not taken a chair, or one of the two couches. It was unlike him to pussyfoot around. He'd been standing in her office for at least five seconds, an eternity at their usual pace of discussion.

"You took all the credit," he said. "Your report is sharp and well written, but it had your name on it and never mentioned me. You're the CEO and it's your right to claim the glory, but I came up with the idea and some acknowledgement would have helped me build a reputation and a future career path. I've busted my ass for you and gained no recognition."

It was the longest personal statement he'd ever made. "Please take a seat," she said.

"I'd rather stand because I'm annoyed."

"I asked you to sit," she said, her voice firm, "because I want to think about what you've said. You're distracting me standing there. Get a coffee, sit on the couch and let me think."

Her father had given her the consumer goods manufacturer to run. The idea of being stuck in a small country with a language she didn't speak had been unappealing, but it was up to her to make something of it.

Her office was her sanctuary. It was where she could admit to herself she hadn't a clue. It was where she could research what she'd heard and where she could change things. She'd wanted to change the black leather chair the moment she'd seen it, but there was nothing feminine about the factory and she didn't want to look like a daddy's girl. So she'd kept the power chair and used it.

Her first trip to the factory had lasted three weeks instead of three days. At the end of the first week, she'd rented an apartment. On the surface, the company didn't seem exciting. But the puzzle was complex. She'd spent days listening to sales, production, design and finance. It's what she'd observed her dad do: listen and say little.

After a quick weekend at home, she'd returned to the factory and her new apartment, determined to knuckle down and make her mark on the business. In those first exciting weeks the information overload had swamped her, but she'd kept listening. The Vice President of Sales had claimed he could only do short term deals. It made sense to sign a long deal if you'd gone to the trouble of persuading a retailer to buy your toaster or waffle iron. It wasn't always their own toasters either. They made own-brand products for retailers and over three hundred different product lines.

The production team didn't know their costs in advance because metal prices fluctuated, so the sales team couldn't agree long deals. A few cents made millions of euros of difference to the end numbers.

Her father had drummed into her that their job was to identify problems, not to solve them. She'd identified one, but it didn't mean they could solve it. She'd placed a job ad and spent hours on video interviews with operations executives. Few seemed inspired to solve the problem, and most had given bland responses to her questions.

On impulse, she'd changed the ad to lead with a question; 'How would you stabilize production costs?'

The email from Lucas had delighted her. He'd refused to hand her a valuable answer for free, but pointed out the solution would be financial, not technical. A recent Harvard graduate with no experience, he'd been the only one to engage her in debate about the problem. On a whim, she'd offered him a twelve-month contract to study the company, and he'd accepted.

He'd arrived in a whirlwind, talked to everyone for four weeks and presented her with a plan. He'd got together with the finance team and a trading house. They'd hedged the price of all the major metals for five years. It was risky if the price fell, but as he'd pointed out, it hadn't moved move than five percent in years, and they'd hedged it at the low point.

A month ago, Sales had signed a five-year deal with a major retailer. Several more had followed. Their long term vision and confident pricing made retailers happy to sign deals locking out the competition for five years.

She'd written a detailed report listing the new business they'd taken off the table. Her boss, the Chief Operations Officer for the holding company, had forwarded it around the group. Good news traveled fast.

It wasn't good news for Lucas. She'd locked him out of the applause and stolen his glory. Everyone needed a chance to build their profile and reputation. He'd earned his. Her thoughtlessness looked selfish, petty and unnecessary.

Lucas returned from the executive kitchen and sat on Christina's couch. She was facing away from him, leaning back in her chair with her feet on the low window sill. He could just see her ankles. She could sit in any position and her legs would look incredible and distracting. Her short suit skirts were just long enough to be respectable, but did nothing to reduce her glamor.

She twisted away from the window, stood up, walked over to him and sat on the couch opposite. "Have I been unfair?" she asked.

She hoped he would stand his ground. There was no way she would back down for someone who didn't.

"Yes. It would have cost you nothing to mention my name as the architect of the idea or to put my name with yours on the front of the report."

Not only had he not backed down, he'd upped his demand.

"Have you considered that I also need recognition?" she asked.

"Yes. I suspect you have a huge hurdle to overcome as the boss's daughter and you've just made one hell of a splash, but there would have been room to share the credit and still achieve your own recognition."

She smiled. "You're eloquent and you've made your point. If you'd backed down, I'd have ignored you, but I respect you for coming in here and calling me out. I'm sorry. I didn't think about it because I'm not used to power games."

"Play or get played," he said.

"I'm sorry. I'm in the wrong. You deserved the recognition, but I can't change things now I've circulated the report."

"I understand, but I'm disappointed in you," he said.

"Of course you are. I accept that and deserve it. Please let me take you to dinner tonight. I'd like to get to know you better, and I'd like you to stick with me. I understand I've let you down and it won't happen again."

"Okay. That would be nice. Credit would have been nicer."

"I know," she said.

She'd taken him to a local restaurant near her apartment where she felt comfortable and had made her apology again over dessert. He'd accepted it. After dropping him back at his car, she'd gone home exhausted and chastened. He was a good-looking man and twice as attractive since he'd revealed his hard backbone. In bed, she thought back to her office. In her power chair, he'd made her feel small. She'd deserved it. He'd made her feel humble.

She got out of bed and changed into plain white cotton panties. They suited her mood. These were the panties she wore when the headmaster caned her. Lucas had made her feel like the headmaster did: small, obedient and sorry. She returned to bed and turned out the lights. In her mind, his demand was more forceful. He made her take off her skirt. Underneath she wore her obedient panties. In her blouse and panties, he made her bend over her own desk.

"I'm disappointed in you," he said over and over as he caned her arrogant conceit out of her. She held herself still as his powerful arm thrashed the cane into her bottom, came hard in her panties and rolled over with a sigh, dissatisfied with herself.

Lucas pictured her vivid eyes in the candlelight. They'd gone straight from work to dinner, her skirt suit as gorgeous in the soft lighting as it had been in her office.

In bed, in only his black shorts, she conflicted him. He couldn't remain annoyed when she hadn't intended her selfishness, but he would have liked to make his point on her backside. Some firm cane strokes or his belt across those beautiful buttocks would have taught her a meaningful lesson. One she deserved.

Her contrition had been genuine. In his head, her soft voice repeated, "I respect you for calling me out. I'm sorry. I'm in the wrong."

His mind extended her speech, "Yes, sir. I'll accept my punishment."

In his mind, he bent her over her desk. She was wearing white string panties in his imagination. He'd never seen panty lines under her tight skirts. The cane seared her bare backside, marking the gutsy girl as she held her position and took her punishment with respect.

When she stood up, she thanked him for her thrashing. At the thought of her willing submission and dutiful respect, he came hard.

"Not likely," he muttered to himself.

The next morning, Christina wore white cotton bikini panties under her tight navy skirt suit. The panty lines were fair punishment for her selfishness and thoughtless. Self-discipline would go a long way to keeping her humble. She'd wear them every day until she'd paid a meaningful price because she shouldn't get away with what she'd done.

Before leaving her apartment, she lifted down her suitcase and removed her cane. Nobody had ever applied it to her backside, but Amy traveled with a cane. It had seemed silly not to have one with her. Now, she only hoped she'd have the courage to hand it over and ask him to make her pay a hard penance.

She flexed the straight golden rattan, enjoying the familiar sound. She checked her panty lines were visible in the mirror and muttered, "You deserve it."

Arriving early, she pulled the cane from the large canvas shopping bag she'd used for transport and hid it above the cupboard in her private bathroom.

The day passed. She was so busy she forgot about it. On a trip to the bathroom in the afternoon, her panties reminded her she was under punishment and she looked up where she knew the cane lay.

The sales team had been busy closing another deal and had postponed their meeting with her until the end of the day. 'Money first, talk later,' she'd said in reply. Her off-the-cuff response had spread through the company like wildfire.

After the sales meeting ended and everyone got up, she said, "Lucas, can you stay behind?"

She led the way back to her office, her heart pounding, about to make either a fool or a woman of herself. She closed the door. "I can't change that report, but I admire you for telling me off about it. I've been thoughtless and selfish, and got away with it."

"That's true," he said.

"I hold myself to the highest of standards and I've let myself down. I'm going to suggest this only once. It's what I deserve, and it may make you feel better. If you're not man enough to take the suggestion, I'll pretend I never said it."

He nodded.

"I want you to bend me over my desk and cane me hard."

His mind exploded. He must be asleep. This couldn't be real. She wasn't that strong and gutsy. Except she was. She'd just said it and she was standing in front of him, waiting for a reply.

He looked her dead in the eye. "I would be proud to cane you. I admire you for asking. You deserve it. I presume you have one?"

She went to her bathroom, got down the cane and handed it to him.

He inspected it. "I'm going to cause you a lot of pain."

"At least as much as I caused you. I expect it. I'll accept your judgment on a fair punishment. Don't be lenient. You were hard on me yesterday. Be hard on me tonight."

He wouldn't ask twice. She'd been clear. He pointed to her desk, "Face the desk. You should have been humble when you wrote that report. Remove your skirt."

She'd expected to keep it on and had never imagined he'd be this understanding of her need. Sweet humility drenched her as she stepped from her tight navy skirt and laid it on a chair. She faced her desk in her blouse and white cotton bikini panties, pleased with her courage. This was where she deserved to be.

"Those are appropriate panties for a girl who deserves punishment."

"I wore them as penance."

"Good. I respect you for doing so. Bend over," he said.

She bent over her desk. It was a rich humiliation to be bent over her own desk in her white cotton panties. She was the CEO. This was the center of her power, where she'd put her name on the report, and where she now bent.

The cane pressed against her bum. She visualized the report emblazoned with her name. Pride came before a fall. She'd fallen. Harsh heat scorched her bum as the cane lashed her thin cotton. She held still. The rattan seared her selfishness into her bottom. Agonizing sting erupted along the second line of fire as he made his point.

"I'm sorry for my selfishness," she said, as the pain in her bottom escalated.

He thrashed her hard. Pain penetrated her behind, burrowing deep into her bottom and her mind as fiery burn ripped across her cheeks.

"What else?" he asked, his voice strict and demanding.

She loved his hard tone and tough demands. "I was thoughtless and selfish. The damage I did will last longer than my pain. I'm sorry."

"That's better," he said.

The cane thrashed a hard ridge of respect across her behind. She took it in silence. She felt it tap low where her bum met her legs. It was obvious he knew how to cane a girl. Two fast strokes flashed across her soft skin, branding deep discipline into her girlish behind.

"Stand up," he ordered.

It hadn't been the most painful caning of her life, but it had been by far the most meaningful. She stood steeped in respect. "Thank you for caning me. We both know I deserved it."

"Your strength and willpower are admirable," he said. "I respect you and I forgive you for your mistake. Don't do it again."

"I won't. Thank you," she reached for her skirt and slipped it on. The delicious and deserved pain thrilled her sex. A man she respected had caned her hard. She'd needed it, now she needed him.

Watching her dress, he placed the cane back where she'd got it from.

Hot as hell, she looked up at the man who'd punished her. He'd put her in her panties, thrashed her and understood her. She said, "I'm going to suggest this only once. If you're not man enough to take the suggestion, I'll pretend I never said it. Please come home with me tonight."