« Spanking Stories

Cut into the foredeck of super yacht Serena, the slate gray cushioned sun-bed was outdoor space for the crew. It fitted six, but with a cobalt blue towel rolled beside her and factor thirty smoothed into her bare skin, Amy stretched out alone, soaking up the morning sun as the sea flowed under the bow.

Denim cut-offs covered her green triangle bikini bottoms. The last two days she'd changed with care after her lesson with the ruler, enjoying the marks in private. A careful check in the mirror this morning had confirmed her bottom was unblemished.

The marks on her bum may have disappeared, but her punishment had left a decent mark of respect on her soul. She'd needed it, and Dan had delivered. Bright and confident, she'd worked hard to earn back the respect of her crew.

The day after her spanking, she'd given Dan a quick hug in passing and whispered a heartfelt 'Thank you' in his ear. She'd trusted him to keep their secret - tricky living in close quarters - but it seemed she'd placed her trust in the right man.

They were repositioning along the French coast, anticipating the owner's needs. She had twenty-four hours off before beginning early shifts in the morning. In precious moments like this, she loved everything about her world.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

She looked up, shading her gaze with her hand. She had no right or desire to decline Dan the use of the sun-bed, but asking was the politeness she'd expect of him.

"I'd be delighted," she said. Her words resonated in her heart. He'd featured in her imagination every night since her spanking. He'd punished her hard, and she respected him for it.

Dan put his phone on the sun-bed and lay back near to her, his head on a matching gray cushion.

In short blue shorts, he was almost naked. Her eyes raked over his muscular thighs as her toned legs heated under his gaze. Proud of her figure, she studied his broad, bare chest as he followed her lithe curves past her firm breasts. Glancing up, their eyes met. She threw back her head and laughed.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked.

"That you like me?" she grinned. "I hope so."

He returned her smile. "I do."

"Is it because of last week?"

"No. Yes. I liked you anyway. You're easy to be around and beautiful. But last week I saw an inner strength I respect. Is that okay?"

"Of course, more than okay. Thank you."

"I want you," he said.

She smiled. "But will you also keep me in line?"

"Count on it. I enjoyed it."

"I thought I noticed some pleasure that night."

"Sorry," he said, looking away.

"Don't be. You delivered what I needed. It's okay to enjoy it, best if you do."

He looked back. "I want you, Amy. I can't stop thinking about you."

She grinned. "Good."

"Let's go to my cabin," he said. As a senior officer, he had a cabin to himself.

She glanced back up at the bridge. "You go first. I'll follow in a few minutes."

Gossip was always rife. A swift exit together was unwise. His departure so soon after arrival would be significant enough.

When a man had bent you over and spanked you, there were no games - she was about to sleep with him. She continued to smile as she listened to the water breaking under the bow.

Checking both ways, she slipped inside his cabin. Privacy was the greatest luxury on board. His bunk was the only place to get close. Dropping her kindle and towel on the floor, she lay down beside him.

His strong fingers stroked her face. "I've always liked you, but the other night sent me into overdrive."

She softened as his hot lips grazed hers. Her tongue explored his as he teased and dominated her lips. Her sex dripped damp pleasure as his hardness pressed against her.

Still kissing, she reached down, unbuttoned her shorts and kicked them off. He broke away to push off his shorts, revealing tight white micro briefs which failed to contain his manhood.

"Are you sure?" he growled.

"Yes, take me."

She placed his hand inside her bikini bottoms. He cupped her sex and rubbed her clit in tiny circles. His thick masculine finger commanded her clit in a way she never could. Obeying his finger, she panted as he rose her towards orgasm.

Reaching behind her, she pulled the string to release her bikini top, ripped the green triangles away and teased her nipples with abandon.

"Keep playing with your nipples," he ordered.

His eyes locked on her rosy, hard pebbles as he kicked off his underwear and pressed his manhood against her. She lifted her hips as his fingers slid under the strings of her bikini bottoms and swept them down her legs.

His rock hard erection rose over her and slid into her. Held in place on his bunk, engorged on his manhood, her pleasure soared as his hardness drove deep inside her. Abandoning her electrified nipples, she gripped his bum and drove him deeper into her. Her sex gripped and released his manhood, stealing every ounce of pleasure from his hardness. In a final tight hold, he thrust through her. She felt him come hard through a myriad of shudders before she too exploded and orgasms spilled through her. Waves of bliss traversed her curves. She held him tight as her hips pulsed out of control.  

As she calmed, he wrapped her in his arms and swept stray strands of hair from her flushed face. He'd surprised himself. His need had surpassed his feelings for any girl. He'd been in the moment with her in a way he'd never experienced. It was the best sex of his life.

"You're phenomenal," she said, smiling.

"Only with you."

"You've punished me and we've had outstanding sex, but I want to get to know you."

"Me too. Tell me how you first realized you enjoyed having your bottom whacked."

"I went to college in the US. In my last month, the vice-principal paddled me for wearing a dress far shorter than the dress code."

"Phew! It must have hurt."

"You bet. On a thin cotton dress, four swats killed me. I only had string panties underneath and my dress was tight. It hurt for the rest of the week. It was shameful to bend and accept a formal beating. Everyone knew I was getting it. But that night in bed, the shame of my forced obedience drove me wild. I'd never felt so sexy. I welcomed the pain and respected the vice-principal for paddling me. It wasn't what I'd expected," she said. "I'm spirited, sometimes too much. It did me good to have my wings clipped a little."

She'd told no one how she felt, but his kindness had put her thoughts in order. "How about you? You were pretty skilled at dealing with me."

"I was a prefect at a private boarding school in England. We used the cane."

"Did you cane boys and girls?"

"Yes. I dealt with whoever I caught. It was the cane or a visit to the headmaster. Most chose the cane."

Being caught and caned by him teased at her imagination. She began circling her clit with her finger. "Where would you do it?"

"In my study." He moved her hand and took control, circling her.

She panted. "What if I didn't want to be alone with you?"

"You could see the headmaster."

"I'd let you deal with me," she gasped.

"I'd tell you off, then order you to bend over my desk."

"Bent over your desk," she cried, stifled it and crushed his hand between her legs as pleasure burst through her. Still pulsing, she rolled onto her side and stroked his manhood.

"I chose the right guy to ask," she said.

"You did."

"If you'd caught me arriving late to school, would you have caned me?" she asked.

"Yes."

"How many strokes?" she rubbed him faster, her mind still fixated on being bent over his desk.

"Two ... strokes," his words staggered out between breaths.

"And you'd cane me on my panties?"

"Yes. They must be modest and white or you'd get extra strokes."

"I'd wear black," she said, rubbing him, feeling him close to coming.

"They'd earn you six extra strokes for deliberate disobedience, laid on hard. You'd wouldn't do it again."

"I might."

He released his pleasure, spurting it across her stomach and breasts. Scraping the sticky juice from her right breast, she sucked her finger. Under his gaze, she consumed all his salty protein.

"I want you," he told her.

The room went quiet, the atmosphere serious. They both waited to see who would speak first.

He broke the silence. "I want a proper relationship. Boyfriend, girlfriend."

"Would I have to obey you?"

"Yes, or face punishment."

She shot him a brilliant smile. "I'll be your girlfriend."

Wrapped in his arms, his heat warmed her body as his lips devoured her. Held by her delicious boyfriend, she let his strength surround her and laid all her trust in him.

After a while she said, "There have to be ground rules. No public displays of affection. We must never create discomfort for our crew mates, or this is over. If we have any heated discussion, it's always in private. We keep our hands to ourselves."

He kissed her, signing his agreement.

"And lips," she said.

"Agreed," he nodded with a smile.

"When I let myself down, like the other night, give me the thrashing I deserve. If I disobey you, be hard on me. I enjoy getting a stinging bottom and I like lots of sex. I love sex."

He grinned. "I like this sort of clarity. You're so refreshing. I'll punish you hard when you deserve it. As for sex, I reckon I can keep up."

She kissed him. "Be hard on me, boyfriend."

"We're in port tomorrow, I'll get a cane. Its impact is quiet, but it hurts like hell."

"It mustn't interfere with my duties."

"It won't, but you'll sometimes be sore while you're working."

She smiled. She'd already enjoyed that. His authority made her sex quiver.

"It won't always be possible to deal with you in a timely manner so we should keep a notebook and write in it punishments you're due."

He climbed over her and stepped back into his tight underwear. She liked the way they outlined his firm butt and showcased his long, muscular legs. Pulling a small black notebook from one of his drawers, he ripped the used pages from the front and grabbed a pen from his desk.

She put her bikini back on and pulled on her shorts as he climbed back over her.

Opening the notebook, he wrote, 'Amy' at the top of the front page.

"To get us started, I'll hold you to the strictest uniform standards. You're required to present yourself in perfect attire, but I'll hold you to a higher standard. An untucked shirt or the faintest mark on your pristine uniform will earn you strokes of the cane."

Arrows of pleasure shot from her nipples and rammed into her sex. "Yes, please." Her uniform filled her with pride. It showed she was subject to the boat's rules. He would reward the slightest flaw with punishment. It was pleasing beyond words. He was already proving to be an excellent boyfriend.

Her breathing sharpened. "You had to reprimand me for a misaligned skirt the night I was late on shift. I was ashamed. It wasn't my usual standard. Please start there."

He wrote, "Cane, 2 strokes, Skirt not straight."

He had sentenced her and written it down, but it wasn't the only thing he must punish her for. Her mind exploded with guilt. She had to confess, and it had to be now. She breathed in. "You need to add another punishment. It's serious."

Her heavy tone grabbed his attention.

Facing him, she confessed her trip around the bathrooms after he'd given her the ruler, masturbating in every one. Every time she passed the toilets dotted around the boat, guilt bubbled to the surface.

"You could have lost your job if anyone had caught you."

"I know. I deserve a severe caning."

"This is genuine punishment, not a game. It was disrespectful and unprofessional. You need thrashing."

Fear pulsed her core. "I'll take whatever you decide."

"For your own good, I'm going to be hard on you." He scribbled in the notebook and handed it to her.

She looked at the last line. "Cane, 16 strokes, Desecrating bathrooms."

She shivered, closed the notebook and handed it to him. "Thank you. I deserve it."