« Spanking Stories

Bent over Dan's bunk, the sun burst over the comforter in front of Amy as the cane slashed into her tight white cotton panties. Intense pain sizzled in a sharp line and escalated. She tensed her bottom, bore the pain and pictured her misaligned skirt.

"Slovenly dress is unacceptable," Dan said, reading her mind.

Another stroke scorched her cotton and dealt with her carelessness. He was right. Arriving late to her shift with a misaligned skirt hurt worse than the fiery sting in her behind. Breathing hard as the pain intensified, she stayed still and let her punishment wash over her.

"You can stand up."

She rose and pulled down her khaki crew skirt, hiding her white string bikini panties and her virgin lines from the cane. She respected the pain and her boyfriend for applying it.

On a super-yacht, space was a luxury. They swapped places and Dan sat on his bunk. While he'd been waiting for paperwork at the customs office this morning, he'd gone to the sex shop he'd identified, bought a thin standard cane and carried the innocuous cardboard tube back to his cabin.

She rubbed her bum. He'd delivered enough pain to punish her, but not enough to disrupt her day. Already she was getting used to the throbbing heat. She looked him in the eye. "Thank you for caning me. How long will it sting like this?"

"A couple of hours. I gave you only light strokes. It'll sting but not penetrate too much. You took it well."

His compliment thrilled her. She'd taken it with dignity.

He handed her their notebook. She put a determined line through her first punishment. Below was the next. It would be worse, much worse. He'd already explained how he'd punish her and why it must be tonight.

"I have to get back to work," she said. Her fifteen-minute morning break was over. Giving her bottom a last tentative rub and her boyfriend a quick kiss, she returned to make beds with her fellow stew, the sting in her bottom a decent penance for her imperfection.

At 10pm the boat emptied. Most of the crew were having dinner ashore, but there was always someone on watch. Moored in the marina, Dan had volunteered for the unpopular duty. Fooling nobody, Amy had claimed exhaustion so they could be alone. It was rare to be alone on the boat. They couldn't miss the opportunity.

Knocking and entering her cabin, he said, "The coast is clear."

She leaped off her bunk and gave him a hug. "I know you have to do this. I've been steeling myself to cope."

"We must deal your disrespectful behavior in the bathrooms. How are you after this morning?"

"Fine. It stung until lunch, then I forgot about it. The marks are fading already."

"It will be a much tougher experience tonight."

"I know." A shiver ran down her spine. Her heart welcomed it, but she dreaded the fearsome pain which he must apply to her bottom.

His face turned stern as he took a step towards the door. "Dress in your whites and report to me in the lounge."

Expected to wear her full dress uniform when the family or guests arrived or departed, and anytime a good impression was in order, her 'whites' were always on standby. Being ordered into her uniform for punishment was humbling and hot.

Buttoning her white fitted blouse, she settled her epaulettes on her shoulders with her two silver stripes. Stepping into her tight black miniskirt, she straightened it out and checked her reflection in the full-length mirror affixed to the cabin wall. Her hemline skirted above mid-thigh.

Her soft-soled black flats completed her visible uniform. Underneath she wore plain white cotton bikini panties and bra, as required by the boat rules. The crew manual covered every detail of systems, rules, behavior and etiquette. It required female crew to wear modest white underwear under formal uniform. Being instructed what panties to wear delighted her. She always slid them into place with obedient respect.

Sometimes, the chief stewardess took all the girls aside for a uniform inspection, including panties. Once, her cabin mate Bianca had worn red ones for fun. Her punishment had been to spend her day off cleaning the hull with the deck crew.

With a last glance in the mirror, she left her cabin. As she entered the main lounge, he said, "Stand there," pointing to a spot on the cream carpet in front of him. In his formal whites, the cane in hand, he looked every inch her First Officer.

"After I'd given you the ruler, you disgraced yourself masturbating in each guest bathroom. I've called you here, in uniform, for a hard lesson in professionalism." His strict tone thrashed her sex and flooded her crisp white panties with shameful pleasure.

"I'm sorry. I'm a disgrace."

"Come with me." He guided her to the door of the first bathroom on an internal corridor near the glass elevator.

"Drop your skirt to your ankles and leave it there. You're lucky I permit you to wear it, given the way you disgraced your uniform."

Shamed, she unzipped her black miniskirt, pushed it past her hips and let it pool at her ankles.

"Lean forward, press your hands against the wall and bend over."

She adopted the compliant position, presenting her panty clad bottom for punishment.

"Think how you behaved in this bathroom," he said, resting the cane on her thin white underwear.

A loud crack reverberated in the corridor and a line of fire seared her cheeks. She cried out as pain penetrated deep into her behind. Ashamed to deserve the cane so hard, she bent further and pushed her bottom out. Panting hard, two more strokes sliced into her, escalating her agony.

"Stand. Fix your skirt."

The tight skirt scrapped over her fresh welts as she pulled it up over her panties. She stood in shame while he circled her to inspect her uniform.

"Good," he said. "Down the stairs, please."

She let him guide her to the next bathroom, down one level in a similar position. As they walked, the pain in her bottom blossomed and deepened. Her sex fired fierce approval. He'd caned her in the corridor, and she must take it again for every bathroom in which she'd been disobedient. Even with no onlookers, it was shameful.

"You know the drill. Bend over."

She unzipped her skirt, let it pool and bent over, leaning her hands on the cream paneling.

"Do you regret playing with yourself in this bathroom?"

"Yes, very much." Dismay at her shameless indulgence and lack of professionalism swamped her.

The cane scorched her bottom, branding her with three fresh punishment marks. Hot pain surged from each fiery line as she battled to handle it.

She dragged her skirt up over her sensitive weals, letting her smart uniform deliver harsh pain.

As they walked side by side to the bathroom behind the dining room, he glanced across at her. There was no sign she was in pain. His respect soared as he admired her strength and professionalism. Every time she bent over, her formal obedience drove him wild.

Standing beside the bathroom door, she said, "I'm sorry, sir," turned, dropped her skirt and bent over. She held her position as the flexible rattan blazed three fiery strokes across her thin cotton panties. Again, she pulled her skirt up, accepting more excruciating punishment.

"Your tight skirt hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir. I deserve it."

He smiled. "Good."

She walked beside him, broadcasting respect, but with sheer agony under her skirt. They made their way to the fourth bathroom near the sky lounge.

"Bend over," he said

His words launched a torrent of pleasure from her sex. Her shocking self-indulgence in this bathroom, and contemptible arrogance, was being caned out of her by her senior officer.

She dropped her skirt and bent. Her epaulettes weighed heavy on her shoulders. She'd disgraced the honor they gave her.

"You committed considerable disobedience in this bathroom."

She had. She'd been naked from the waist down, her legs spread and her fingers working overtime. Her stunning, intense and beautiful orgasms were not appropriate for a stewardess on duty. It was here she'd imagined what he might do if he caught her. The reality was worse.

"I'm sorry, sir."

The flexible punishment stick lashed into her soft skin. She pushed her hands into the wall as blazing pain burned into her soft cheeks. Flexing her legs, she tried to relieve the vicious sting.

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir. But I deserve it." She straightened her legs and summoned her courage as two more strokes bit into her bum.

"Stand up."

Full of deep respect and immense pain, she obeyed in silence.

"One last lesson," he said. "Come with me."

She walked beside him back to the main lounge. He stood in the middle of the carpeted grandeur, dominating the space. "Stand there and face forward," he commanded.

He walked around her. Facing her, he said, "You cheated your employer out of an entire hour of work."

She clenching her fists, horrified by her deceit. Obsessed by her unprofessionalism, she hadn't thought of her dishonesty.

"Take off your skirt and place it on that chair." He pointed to an armchair nearby.

Her miniskirt removed and folded on the arm of the chair, she stood in her white blouse and panties.

"Remove your panties and place them on the floor in front of you," he instructed.

She stepped out of her underwear and spread her panties, the right way up, on the floor in front of her. The light breeze from the air conditioning wafted over the twelve blazing lines on her bare bottom.

"Bend over and touch your toes."

Bending from the hips, her legs straight and proud, her fingertips touched her black flats. In front of her, her white uniform panties were a stark reminder she was bare. Her long brunette tresses fell around her face, gifting her privacy in which to take her shameful strokes.

He walked behind her and tapped the cane against the lowest part of her bottom, just above the tops of her thighs. "Four strokes, right here. You deserve a brutal lesson."

Ferocious pain slashed into her sensitive skin and surged through her bottom. She locked her fingers to her feet and suffered in silence. She'd never cheated on an employer in her life. The rattan rod whipped into her taut skin, defying her to move. Pain soared as she used all her power to maintain her position.

The third furious stroke drove her up on her toes. As she came to rest back on her heels, her fingers still locked in place, she said, "I'm the most sorry I've ever been, sir."

"I know you are," he said. "But I have to give you the last stroke. Stay still and lets make sure it's the most painful it can be."

She nodded to herself. Her courage rose. She wanted him to be severe. She wanted to carry her marks for the longest time.

Blistering pain burst across her taut skin, launching waves of vicious torment deep into her disobedient bottom. She rode her agony as the sting surged and the ache deepened. As the pain peaked, she rammed her fingers into her shoes, determined to show absolute respect for her punishment. The family was lovely. They paid her to work, not play. She took the stroke to heart and let it burn while she remained bent.

After a while, he touched her shoulder, brought her up to stand on shaking legs and held her tight.

"Sitting down will be tough punishment," he whispered in her ear.

"I'll bear it with pride. Thank you for being hard on me," she breathed into his chest.

Pride in her punishment pumped heat to her sex. Liquid self-respect met the inferno in her behind and soothed it. She rose on her tiptoes, kissed him and, all formality forgotten, said, "Fuck me hard."

He unbuttoned her blouse as she undid his belt. He took over and stripped fast, revealing tight black underpants. Watching her discard her bra, he swept her naked into his arms and laid her on the cream Japanese fan rug in the center of the room.

As he removed his underpants, his manhood sprung free, honoring her. He lowered himself over her and kissed her as his immense girth filled her sex.

"You're a good girl," he gasped, thrusting deep inside her.

"Thank you," she panted. Her welts rubbed a rhythm against the rug. She took the pain and flushed it into pleasure, gripping his manhood tight inside her.

"You caned me, a proper hard caning," she panted.

"And you took it with grace."

She wrapped her legs tight around him, drew him even deeper inside her and exploded as he pounded his pleasure into her depths. She drowned in frenzied spasms of stunning pleasure as orgasms cascaded through her.

He flopped onto his back on the rug beside her and held her tight while they calmed. "You're the best girlfriend I've ever known."

She grinned. "Thank you. You're a pretty decent boyfriend."

Soft, naked and graceful in the moonlight, she gazed up through the windows at the night sky in the distance, feeling stronger than she'd ever been.

Evidence of their passion imprinted in her mind and burned into her bottom, she'd tidied the lounge and removed every trace of their existence before settling on her bunk.

Proud of her pain, she caressed her punished bottom through the soft cotton of her pale pink t-shirt nightie. Her white cotton string prevented painful panty elastic stinging her welts.

She'd received a beating, a formal punishment intended to hurt her. It had thrashed her disgrace out of her. The subtle honesty of her soreness pleased her. A punished girl, she wouldn't allow herself the salve of pleasure. She'd forego masturbation for a few days to teach herself a lesson.

When her cabin mate Bianca returned, she looked up, her face a picture of innocence.

"Good night?" Bianca asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe."