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« Amy, Christina and Bianca


24. Dress Code

Spanking Story


A dress code violation burns in a yacht stewardess's conscience until she's paddled

«Beginning Part 25»

The scalding coffee hit the front of her polo shirt with a splat. Amy sucked in her stomach attempting to escape the burn, dumped the coffee mug in the sink and ripped off her blue crew polo.

"Sorry," the crew chef said.

Inspecting the front of her white cotton vest top, she muttered, "It's okay." He'd come through the stew pantry as she'd turned. It hadn't been his fault as much as bad luck for both of them. Conscious the captain was waiting on his coffee, she poured a fresh mug from the glass jug and placed it back under the machine.

In her khaki crew skirt and white vest top, she took his coffee to the bridge as the first light of day cast its spell over the foredeck.

Accepting his coffee, the captain appraised her, "Get yourself in proper uniform and report back to me."

"Yes, sir," she said. An inexperienced stewardess might have argued. A full explanation had been on her lips, but arguing back with the captain was never okay.

She went to her cabin, fitted a fresh polo, checked her uniform in the mirror and returned to the bridge.

"There's no excuse for wearing a vest top on duty. You have a uniform for a reason. You know the dress code. Standards must not slip. What if you'd served a guest like that?"

"I wouldn't have, sir."

"Glad to hear it, so don't serve me undressed. Dismissed."

Her scolding resonating in her head, she'd left the bridge. She hadn't meant to wear her vest top. She thought about his point. If she'd been serving guests, she would have rushed down to her cabin first and changed. She pictured her thin white cotton vest top in front of the captain and frowned.

Dan was on the swim deck talking to the deck team, so she hung back in the beach club area. When he noticed her and broke away, she had a hurried, whispered conversation with him about her transgression.

"There was a good reason," he said.

"There's never a good reason to break the dress code. I got my first lesson in that back in college, as you know."

"You'd have changed if you'd been serving a guest?" he asked.


"Do you want me to deal with you?"

She nodded. "He scolded me, and I deserved it. But it feels incomplete. I need you to punish me."

"I'll have a think and come up with a fair punishment."

His promise was enough to satisfy her. She smiled, "Thank you."

Her punishment had gone to the back of her mind. Events had overtaken her. The deck dropped away below her as the helicopter lifted off. The dark blue Airbus 145 wasn't for the crew, but she was on a mission. Her boss had called her moments after she'd finished with Dan. She was being sent to Milan. She didn't get to big cities often. The allure had made her ask if Dan could come with her.

"Mission first," her boss had said, her voice hard and firm. After her telling off from the captain, obedience was high on her mind. She'd agreed, and her boss had let her invite Dan.

Her mission was poignant. Moored across the bay from Serena was The Symphony Girl. It had been her first boat. The crew had now changed, and she didn't know anyone on board. They'd asked the Chief Stew for help to get a dress from Milan for a dinner tonight. Not all yachts carried a helicopter, but Serena did. Her boss had liaised with her counterpart and agreed to help.

As they sped up over the island, she settled in to enjoy the ninety-minute flight. She'd dressed for the city in gray skinny jeans and a stylish white blouse. Underneath, she had on colorful college co-ed panties. She'd bought them in Victoria's Secret in West Palm Beach last year. The mint elastic and tie-dyed white cotton were cute and girly. And that was how she wanted to feel in the fashion centric city.

As they circled the helipad on top of a downtown skyscraper, the pilot said, "We'll stand by at Malpensa airport. Call us when you're ready to leave. We need twenty minutes to reach you. You must be on the helipad. We're only allowed to touch and go."

"Will do," she said.

She'd had a glorious view of Milan's architecture as they had swept in over the city. The view from the Mercedes which collected them was still exciting. People packed the streets with energy, even at 10am.

She watched people go about their normal daily lives. It was refreshing. They had places to go, cars to drive and shops to visit. She couldn't remember the last time she'd driven a car. She didn't own a car or a home. Her home was Serena, but it was nice to visit life for a while.

Dan leaned into her and said, "Fancy some fun?"

The twinkle in his eye was enough to make her agree. She'd no idea what form his fun might take, but it wasn't the sort of offer a girl could refuse.

The driver dropped Dan where he'd asked in the city. She kissed him goodbye, and he whispered, "Meet me at the Four Seasons Hotel when you've done your job."

"Here," the driver gesticulated at an unimpressive green door. She leaned forward, and he pointed again.

"Grazie," she said, rolling the 'r' around her tongue. She spoke hello, please and thank you, in at least a dozen languages.

A tiny brass nameplate beside the door carried the designer name she'd been expecting. She'd seen it all over the world. She knocked.

A hot Italian man in a sharp suit answered the door and looked down at her jeans, unimpressed.


Briefed by her boss, she gave the name of the dress's owner. It produced a flood of welcoming Italian, the gesture clear even if the words were not. Inside was a flurry of beautiful girls being dressed and measured, machinist's cutting and sewing. It was noisy and a lot less prestigious than she'd expected. They brought her a garment carrier right away.

She gesticulated to ask the sexy Italian to open it for her. With great reluctance, he complied. She could see enough colors to recognize the dress. It matched the picture on her phone. He resealed the bag and handed it to her with both arms.

Her driver had turned around and parked outside. She slipped into the back of the black Mercedes and asked to him to take her to the hotel.

She had twenty minutes to imagine what Dan had planned. Sex in a hotel was a given. He was a man. A large bed was a huge allure.

Entering the cloistered courtyard of the hotel, she pulled the Iridium satellite phone from her shoulder bag. The chunky handset worked anywhere she could see the sky. It avoided the vagaries of mobile networks around the world. She called Serena and reported safe possession of the dress. Word would travel to the guest on board The Symphony Girl. She was ingrained with service, no matter where she stood. Dan had already checked in and the front desk gave her a room key.

Hanging the garment carrier in the wardrobe, she turned and gave him a passionate kiss and headed to the bathroom. It had been a long trip from Serena via the designer.

Refreshed and ready for fun, she said, "I want to go window shopping. I've no room to store anything and little desire to buy, but I want to look in every window in town."

Her enthusiasm was infectious. She made window shopping sound fun. He smiled, but his voice hardened. "First, you need dealing with. Being hauled up by the captain on a dress code violation is unacceptable for a senior stewardess."

He was right. It had been unacceptable. Being summoned for a strict scolding had pumped her full of guilt and shame.

"You know what the penalty was in college. You got four swats with the paddle over your thin dress."

She nodded at the memory of her painful education. The heavy oak had penetrated her thin cotton mesh dress. With only string panties, the ferocious burn had hurt all day and ached even more over the following days.

"Wait outside in the corridor. I'll call you when I'm ready."

Her sex spun through over a thousand degrees of pleasure at his tough command. His delicious, threatening tone coursed heat and fear through her body. He was going to give her a formal paddling, like at college. Her sex pumped liquid into her girly panties. She went out of the room and stood in the corridor with her back against the wall.

Left to await her fate, fear flooded her as she imagined the pain. A woman and her daughter went by and looked at her. Even in a luxury hotel, she looked like a girl waiting for the paddle.

The door opened, and he called, "Next."

She entered the room, and the door closed behind her.

"I'm disappointed to see you," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said, captivated by the large dark oak paddle in his hand. So that was where he'd been this morning. It would hurt her, but she needed it.

"Dress codes exist to maintain order. Turning up in front of the captain in your skimpy vest top when you were on duty is a clear breach. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry." Shame at her state of undress before the captain surrounded her. She should have changed her top before serving his coffee. Rules existed to maintain order, an order she liked and respected.

"It's not the first time you've had a paddling for a dress code violation, is it?"

"No, sir. It's not."

"Last time you wore a skimpy thin dress. I'm surprised the paddle didn't make more of an impression on you."

"It did, sir. It did."

The burning pain and embarrassment of being bent over in her ultra-short dress in front of the Vice-Principal was as clear in her mind as it had been that day, years ago. His paddle had stung her disobedience out of her.

"And yet, here you are. Today's lesson will be four hard swats. Face the desk and drop your jeans," he commanded.

He'd moved the carved dark wood desk into the middle of the room, away from the window. Drenched in strict obedience, she faced the desk, unsnapped her gray jeans and shoved them down her toned legs. Her tie-dyed girlish panties on show, their innocence turned her on.

"Bend over," he commanded.

Her sex thrived on her fear and embarrassment as she placed her arms on the desk and bent for her official discipline. Girls who broke the dress code had to drop their smart jeans and take the paddle. Her panties stretched over her butt, offering scant protection as the paddle rested against her girlish behind. She could feel its size. It would make a complete world of impact on her bottom and her soul.

Agonizing torment burst across her butt. Vicious heat ripped into her cheeks as a resounding bang filled the room. The luxury hotel had thick walls, but they couldn't contain an official paddling. Anyone in the corridor would know she was getting paddled. All she could do was breathe through the pain and picture her disobedient self before the captain early this morning.

The paddle slammed into her butt. The impact of the heavy wood forced her over the desk. Her raging sex worked overtime to help her accept her punishment.

"You will obey the dress code of your job," he said.

Her sex lapped up his strict tone.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, panting through her pain.

He paddled her twice, fast. Her butt flared in pain under the fiery fusillade.

She yelled. She couldn't help it. The excruciating pain was heavy punishment.

He left her bent over the desk while she worked the hurt in her bum through to her sex, reminding herself why she was in so much pain.

"Stand up," he ordered.

She faced him, "I'm sorry I needed it, sir. Thank you for paddling me. I'll obey the dress code."

He looked her up and down, "See that you do."

He got his black backpack from beside the wardrobe and fitted the paddle inside. It would be a long time before she wanted to feel it again. He placed the backpack back on the floor and grabbed her in his arms.

"You're a beautiful girl. I bet you won't do that again in a hurry."

"I won't. Thanks for loving me enough to punish me. Fuck, it hurts."

She broke free to rub her butt through her thin panties. Her bum burned against the bed as she sat to get her sneakers off. He kneeled and untied them for her. Easing each from her feet, he pulled her jeans from her ankles. She shifted back up the bed to rest her head on the pile of pillows and unbuttoned her white blouse.

He followed her, kicking off his shoes and pushing down his jeans as he climbed onto the gigantic bed.

"This is pleasure," she said, flinging her arms out on both sides.

He grinned. Space was a luxury. He eased her panties down over her hips and she lifted to help him.

"These are the cutest panties. So suitable for today," he said.

"I'm glad you like them," she said. Their simple girlishness had taken her right back to college, and so had he.

He buried his face between her thighs and tongued her clit. She soared. After his hard handling of her, his intimate touch sent her high as a kite. His tongue circled her clit with firm control, teasing her desire. She scratched at the covers with her fingers, desperate not to come. Her glistening nipples refused her touch. They were lethal triggers. She moaned, thrusting her desperation out of her mouth to keep herself from erupting. His tongue had lashed her with a strict scolding and now it commanded her pleasure.

She came with a ferocious blast, knocking his head out of the way as her orgasms surged through her. She twisted across the sheets, letting her body spread into the space to dissipate its pent up pleasure.

They made slow, gentle love using the entire bed, and ate lunch in the courtyard, watching the surrounding people. They window shopped down Via Montenapoleone and Corso Venezia. She dreamed of herself in dresses she could never afford while she walked beside the man who'd slammed the paddle into her panties.

The frantic life going on around her was breathtaking. But she yearned for the one she knew and reached into her bag for the sat-phone.

The sun was setting as the pilots placed her back on the deck of super yacht Serena. Dan took her shoulder bag and her jacket as she leaped from the helicopter, carrying the garment bag across both arms. She went straight down the port stairs to the swim deck. A deckhand was holding the tender, engines running. She jumped in and sat on the middle seat as he pushed off. It was less than a minute to draw alongside The Symphony Girl.

The Chief Stew, in full dress uniform, was waiting for her on the transom. Amy handed up the garment bag with care.

"You're a lifesaver, Amy. Thanks for the call earlier. She's been on edge about this dress since yesterday. Did you have a nice day?"

"I did. I went window shopping."

"All that walking, you must be sore."

Amy grinned as she pushed them off again. "Yes, I am a bit."