« Spanking Stories

"Francesca's looking for you," the chef called as Amy passed through the galley.

The family were aboard again. They'd used their yacht often over recent months. She appreciated serving them. She lived to serve with distinction and liked to see delighted faces. The owner's daughter was well-mannered and a delight to please.

"Who's on service?" she asked.

"Bianca, but Francesca asked for you. She said it was personal."

"Thanks, I'll sort it."

She knocked on Francesca's stateroom door.

Opening the door, Francesca said, "Come in, Amy. I need some advice."

Amy stood inside the room. Sitting uninvited was not acceptable, and it never crossed her mind to do so.

"You remember when you screwed up my dress?" Francesca said.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize. You were lovely about it. In your email you said your boss had punished you. You told me it was both fair and tough. Can you tell me how she punished you?"

"Okay," Amy said. "She made me do ten push-ups every morning for five days in my formal uniform out on the sky deck in the sun. I had to do it without a drop of sweat and have my uniform inspected for perfection afterwards. I also had to work long shifts in my formal uniform for the whole five days while the rest of the crew were in their crew kit. Why do you want to know?"

Francesca looked disappointed. "I don't know what I was hoping for, but I've upset my father in a big way and I'm trying to fix it."

"What have you done?"

"Please, sit," Francesca invited. "I'm sorry, I'm being selfish."

"It's okay. Let me help you," Amy said, taking the window seat while Francesca perched on the edge of her bed.

"I was seeing this boy. Father had told me to end it, but I didn't. We were late departing because I was twenty minutes late getting back from his place. Dad was right. He's a loser. He called me a rich bitch. It may be true, but he wasn't treating me right. I finished with him anyway," Francesca explained. "My lateness upset my father. When he found out where I'd been, it sent him over the top. He isn't talking to me."

"You want to apologize, have him punish you and feel better," Amy interjected. "Is that the long and short of it?"

"Yes," Francesca admitted. "Taking my punishment used to make me feel better."

"How were you punished?"

"I got the belt or the cane, but I'm eighteen now, and don't get it anymore. It's been years."

"Here's what I'd do," Amy said. "Go to your father and apologize. Tell him how useless the boy was, so he knows you're over him. Tell him he was right and you could learn more from his advice in the future."

"Okay," Francesca said. Amy was correct, her dad had a knack for being right about people. "It might help, a bit."

"It will," Amy said. "But here's how to nail it. You'll have to wait until you get home for your punishment, but he'll respect you right away."

Amy could see she had Francesca's attention and looked her in the eye. "Tell him you're not too old for the cane."

Two hours later, Bianca and Amy were serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres in the main lounge. Francesca was busy chatting with her father, but she paused and took Amy aside, beaming. "You're a genius, Amy. It will hurt, but I deserve it. It's stupid, but I'm looking forward to it."

Amy smiled. "It's my job to help you, and it's also a genuine pleasure."

"It was easy. I asked for it and I felt what I was saying," Francesca whispered.

"Being made sore for a while is therapeutic," Amy agreed. "Enjoy your time on board, while you've got him to yourself. And when the time comes, I hope it hurts."

She thought about her conversation with Francesca as the evening progressed. She'd snapped at Dan the other day. Well, not only the other day. She'd been short a few times. She hadn't been her usual cheerful self. While she and Bianca were waiting to serve the first course, she asked, "Have I been a bit off in the last few days?"

"No. Quiet, maybe. Not as bright as usual," her cabin mate observed.

"I've been tense, I think. There's no reason," Amy said, her mind wandering to find what was wrong.

"Get your boyfriend to fuck your brains out. That'll sort you," Bianca offered with a grin as the chef called them.

She concentrated on the dinner service. It was her profession. She never let her mood intrude. A professional smile in place and her mind on the job, she delivered her usual flawless performance.

When the family had eaten and gone to bed, despite the late hour, she found a spring in her step. She had no reason to be anything other than happy and polite. Moods affected the crew. It was important not the cause discomfort for no reason. She deserved a good, sharp reminder.

Still in her formal uniform from serving dinner, she found Dan reading in his cabin.

"When are you on duty?" she asked.

"I'm taking over watch at midnight."

She closed the door behind her. They had an hour. Without saying a word, she reached into his tall cupboard for the regular cane she knew was at the back. Smoothing her hands along the golden rattan, she thought it was time to take some of her own advice. She placed the cane on the end of his bunk and undressed. Her boyfriend was the kindest man in the world. He said nothing, asked nothing, just waited.

She placed her black miniskirt and white blouse on his small desk. Removing her plain white bra, she put it on her uniform and stepped from her black shoes, moving them nearby.

Standing in only her thin white cotton bikini panties, she displayed humble obedience and faced him as he sat up on his bunk. She held out both hands with the cane across them like a peace offering. "I've been snappish and a bit off several times over the last few days. It's been a while since I've felt your firm hand."

Her nipples hardened as he took the cane and waited. She loved him for it. He knew she had more to say.

"I've let tension build up in me. Tension with no reason. I'm not my usual happy self. Please punish me, be hard but kind. A solid reminder of how lucky I am to have you will do me no harm. It's overdue. A firm six strokes would be effective. It's at least a month since you've had to bring me into line. I feel bad about my morose attitude. It would do me a lot of good to have my wings clipped a little."

She fell silent.

"Bend over. Hands on the bunk," he commanded, pointing as he rose.

She bent over his bunk and placed her hands on his comforter. Looking straight ahead at his cabin wall, she felt a profound sense of correctness.

"Your attitude has been poor. You've been snappish with me and I expect others. I'm glad you recognized it and asked for help. You're a good, obedient girl. We'll work together over the next few minutes to ensure you stay that way."

His strict tone demanded her obedience, but his kind words also thrilled her. She'd be proud to work with him, to get herself well-punished.

"You deserve this, Amy."

She loved it when he used her name. It always made her focus. "I do. I need it," she said.

He laid the cane across her white cotton bottom. Blazing shock bit into her panties and brandished a fiery line of intense pain. Her obedience rammed down into her core. She needed the cane. One stroke had put her sex on alert. She absorbed the hurt into herself and let shame wash over her sex.

The pause gave time for the pain to reach deep into her and teach its lesson. The next stroke seared a thin line below the last. Another landed above to deliver three painful lines high, low and across the middle of her morose bottom. Her sex grabbed the pain and her mind came alive with pride. She was proud of herself for bending when she needed to. Her greedy sex grabbed the pride and wrapped it around the pain, squeezing pleasure into her panties.

"Your attitude needed adjustment. I respect you for asking in such a gracious manner." His voice lathered her in respect and kindness, as his cane blazed across her bottom three times, filling in the gaps to deliver a solid sore patch on the peak of her bottom.

He touched her shoulder. "Come here."

Her bottom was on fire. Designed only to punish, the cane hurt. She hugged him, letting her bottom burn with pride, doing nothing to assuage the heat she deserved.

After a while, she stepped back, took the cane from him and replaced it in the cupboard. Turning back to him, she put her arms by her sides and looked him straight in the eye. "Thank you for punishing me. I needed you to bring me into line. I feel refreshed."

"You took it with grace and dignity. Your attitude is beautiful." He pulled her, in her white cotton panties, onto the bed. He wanted her to feel his love, respect and hard erection.

"I want you," he moaned.

His manhood pressed rock hard against her. She undid his shorts and rolled out of the way for him to shed his clothes. Rolling back, she kissed him, her respectful lips against the hard, kind lips of the man who'd caned her.

Her sex was clamoring for attention. She broke the kiss and rolled onto her back.

"Fuck me, like this. My bottom hurts against the sheets. I want to feel pain and pleasure all at once."

He pushed her white cotton panties aside and slid his manhood into her wet sex. Every inch increased her love for him. Her boyfriend hadn't hesitated to hurt her, when hurt was what she needed. The six painful welts across her bottom rubbed the bed. The elastic of her panties grazed her bum, adding to her discomfort as he thrust her body up the bed with his desire.

She loved it when he fucked her after he'd caned her. The sheer submission of accepting his manhood in control of her pleasure and his hard hand in command of her pain was pure delight. He'd left her white cotton panties in place. They encased her in tight obedience as he took her. She loved his subtle understanding of how she felt.

Strong arms supported his hard chest above her. His manhood moved against her. She gripped him with her sex and ran her fingers over her desperate rosy nipples. He controlled her pleasure, sending strong pulses from her sex to all parts of her body. She pushed back against him, plunging his manhood deeper inside her.

Her request to have her wings clipped had driven a stake of respect through his heart. He'd never known a girl who could be so honest with herself and him.

She felt his respect as he thrust up into her core. Desperation fired back from her nipples. She flew up the wall of pleasure. He held her, panting on the thin edge of life itself as she fought to hold her pleasure back, packed with joy at her obedience.

She took every thrust he gave until he had no more and burst his orgasm into her, smashing her fragile hold. Her first orgasm crashed a tidal wave through her. Shuddering rushes of pleasures followed. Each distinct, before the next overtook her. He held his hard body over her, his eyes consuming her as she shuddered, rocked and twisted in pleasure beneath him.

He collapsed beside her. "Do you feel better?" he asked, breathless and smiling.

"Like a bright fresh new me," she grinned. She turned her head to look at him. "Thank you for caning my attitude out of me. I needed it. You're my masterful, dominant, powerhouse of a man and I don't know what I'd do without you."

He turned to smile at her. "It takes two."