« Spanking Stories

The paddle blistered Amy's bottom through her thin dress. She had no choice but to accept the blazing heat applied to her bottom. She'd disobeyed college dress code and was being paddled. Standing in line outside the door, she'd heard the girls in front of her getting the oak applied to their backsides. The sound had scared her. She took her own swats in silence, sucking up the agony and dealing with the shocking pain in her behind, because there was no escape.

Lying in her crew bunk on board super yacht Serena, she remembered the force of obedience which had made her bend over the vice-principal's desk on his command. The fear of the punishment. The certainty she must take it. She wanted to feel it again, without a choice. She wanted to feel condemned and have no escape.

It was a good day for discipline. Her cabin mate Bianca had shown her the way. Their guests, friends of the owner, were departing so the entire crew lined up in formal uniform on the aft deck to say goodbye.

Attired in her crisp white blouse with its epaulettes, her black miniskirt and soft-soled pumps, she arrived on deck and took her place in line beside her fellow crew, not a hair out of place.

Under her smart black miniskirt, she wore bright red panties in contravention of the rules laid out in the crew manual. It required modest white underwear for the female crew, but it was too late to change her mind.

If the Chief Stewardess carried out a uniform inspection, she would have to lower her skirt enough to show her obedient white bikini panties. Instead, she would reveal skimpy bright red and it would cost her.

Experience suggested she would get a day of heavy cleaning duty. She would take her punishment. There was no escape. All day it would turn her on as she worked to know she had broken the rules and her boss had made her take her punishment. The humility would refresh her.

She'd already decided she would report herself to Dan, if there was no official inspection. It was deliberate disobedience, so he should offer her no escape either.

She stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her crew mates, a professional smile in place, shaking hands with each guest, aware of her disobedient underwear.

Watching her boss as the gathering broke up, she waited to see if she would order an inspection. It didn't happen.

She turned to look out over the marina and enjoy the morning. She felt the skimpy pull of her panties under her uniform. The reminder was unnecessary; the hour had come. She must report herself.

Dan was coming down the starboard gangway.

She raised her eyes to suggest she wanted to talk.

In the corner of the aft deck, she whispered, "I'm wearing red underwear."

He understood. "My cabin in fifteen minutes," he ordered.

His firm tone flushed pleasure through her. He'd given her no choice. It boded well. She looked up to see her boss, beckoning her from the main lounge doorway.

"Uniform inspection in the Sky Lounge," she said as Amy approached.

The Sky Lounge gave them some privacy from the rest of the crew, but not from each other. Her heart thumped as she climbed the stairs and joined the semi-circle of her teammates.

Their boss checked their blouses for creases, their epaulettes for straightness, and their hair for neatness. She walked back around checking their skirts were straight and clean.

"Well done," she said. "You're all excellent. Skirts down please."

They unzipped their skirts at the side and pushed them down enough to show their panties. Amy's breathing sharpened. She glanced around, crisp white everywhere.

"Amy, are you excluded from the uniform rules?" her boss asked as they all zipped their skirts.

Called out for her subtle disobedience in front of her team mates, shame shivered down her spine.

"No, ma'am," she said.

"You had the rest of today off. Consider that canceled. Report to the aft deck in an hour. Wear your shorts. You can help the exterior team wash down the whole boat."

"Yes, ma'am."

She made it to Dan's cabin on time and knocked.

"Come," he called.

Closing the door, she stood before him.

"Take off your skirt," he commanded.

For the second time in a few minutes, she stood displaying her disobedient red cotton bikini panties.

"Those are not regulation underwear, are they?" he asked.

"No, sir." Her eyes sank to the floor.

She always addressed him as 'sir' when it was fitting. It was the correct form of address for a First Officer and she'd committed an official offense.

"I guess there wasn't an inspection today," he commented.

"In fact, there was," she said. "It happened after I reported myself to you. Instead of having the day off, I have to help with the wash down."

"You still deserve a caning. Washing down the boat with a sore bottom will do you good."

His sentence thrilled her. She wanted no escape. Not from any of it. She had put herself in this position. Double punishment was a just fate.

"I'm going to give you six strokes."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Turn around and lean against the door. Push your bottom out."

She turned and assumed the position, offering her red panties for the cane. They were skimpy, so her bottom was half bare. The golden stick touched her red cotton.

She'd chosen to wear the red panties. She reflected on her disobedience as the cane scorched her deserving behind. It bit into her softness, delivering a deep line of searing agony. The pain carried deep inside her as she panted against the heavy wood of the door. She'd earned it fair and square.

He delivered the next stroke a little higher on her bottom. The cane, which sometimes only stung, delivered fierce punishment to her firm bottom.

She thought of her inspection, her red panties highlighting her blatant disregard for the formal dress code. The third stroke lanced across the lower middle of her bottom, marking her with a deep red line of searing pain.

She breathed hard, her breath clouding on the door in front of her. It was a tough punishment, but she was here to receive a painful lesson. Her lack of choice powered her sex. It was thrilling to submit. He'd given her no choice.

She held herself against the door as the strokes continued to deliver pain she'd earned. She didn't yell out. Her bottom sizzled with shame as he thrashed her.

As she awaited the last stroke, she remembered her skirt unzipped and lowered enough to show her panties to her boss. Most uniform inspections were a proud moment of obedience for her. She didn't mind being checked and enjoyed having to show her crisp white panties. But this time her red panties had marked her out for punishment and it had followed as she'd known it would.

The shameful vision of her skirt half-mast fixed itself in her mind as the cane seared its last ruthless stroke into the middle of her bottom. A scorching blow, she stamped her feet to take the pain.

"Get dressed," he said.

She rubbed her bottom through her panties as she pulled on her skirt and aligned it.

He gave her a hug. She was beautiful, honest and hurting. He held her close and rubbed her bottom through her skirt.

"Will it be a hard afternoon?" he asked.

"It's okay, it just hurts. It was a lesson I needed to learn, but I'm going to need you tonight."

Working in the sun was a pleasant change. Hanging over the side of the yacht in a harness was pleasant pain. The wide straps ran over her shorts, rubbing against the weals from her caning as she moved. Sometimes it caught her unaware, and she winced. Other times, she moved with deliberate care to tease herself with some pain.

It was an honest punishment. Her boss had given her no choice. Her boyfriend had given her no choice. She lived with rules. It was how she wanted it.

With a cloth and bucket, she worked her way down the starboard side. The experienced deckhand she was working alongside appreciated her help, or her pretty legs, perhaps both.

"I heard you wore the wrong underwear," he said.

"I did," she smiled. There was no point in denying her offense. News traveled fast.

She was still enjoying the discomfort of her skimpy panties. Out of her formal uniform, they were now legal, but a constant reminder of her disobedience as the harness caused their sharp cut to irritate and pinch the welts on her bottom

Her sex sent waves of pleasure around her, pouring damp heat into her panties. Turned on and working in the sun, it was an excruciating and pleasurable afternoon.

Her boss met her when she finished. "How was your day off?" she asked.

"Deserved, ma'am. Thank you for punishing me," she replied. She lived in an environment with strict rules. Sometimes she needed a reminder.

Her boss guided her along the starboard gangway. They looked out over the marina, comfortable together. She felt no resentment. It had been a fair punishment.

Her boss spoke, her voice low, almost a whisper, "Did you need it?"

It stunned Amy. But of course her boss knew. Why else would a good girl be so disobedient?

"Yes," she admitted in a low voice. "A reminder to behave helps sometimes. Thank you."

Her boss turned to look at her, a cryptic smile on her face. "You and your cabin mate have a lot in common."

Her boss's words were on her mind as she waited, almost naked, in Dan's cabin. He wouldn't be long. It sounded like Bianca had worn her red panties for the same reason as her. It pleased her to know other girls felt the same way.

Her solution to life may be more painful, but it was swift and effective.

Her long brunette tresses flowed over his pillow as she stretched her bare legs along his bunk and took pleasure from her hard rosy nipples. Flushed with desire, she shoved her hand into her skimpy red panties and circled her clit. She kept herself on the edge, ready for him, staring at the door she'd leaned against earlier.

To have someone on board she could trust made every day better. The job could be stressful and living on top of people you worked with was never easy, but these moments of intense pleasure made everything easier. She ran her finger down and up the glistening line of her sex and returned to her clit.

When he came in, he closed the door fast and appreciated her with his eyes as he stripped in a hurry. It thrilled her to see how she turned him on. She rubbed herself faster at the sight of his hardness, aiming right for her. Her labored breathing disclosed how turned on she was.

He kneeled on the bed, straddling her. "Roll over and kneel up," he ordered.

She obeyed and his hands consumed her pert breasts, his fingers flicking across her nipples, firing rockets into her sex.

"Oh, god. Take me," she panted.

Her hands pressed hard against the wall at the head of the bunk, she spread her legs. He thrust into her, replacing the electricity from her nipples with the full force of his manhood as he gripped her hips. Hot all afternoon, it took seconds to reach her peak.

"Hold yourself, or I'll belt you," he whispered.

She would obey him, threat or no threat. But it was thrilling to have it hanging over her. She held position, even as desperation pulsed through her sex. His massive manhood kept her steady. She felt him relax.

He thrust into her again, and she rose to the brink. "Don't stop!" she begged.

He stopped. She had no choice.

"Who decides when you come?" he asked in a firm voice.

"You do," she begged, her voice desperate but obedient, her need palpable.

Holding herself in abeyance, she stilled her body, tensing against his hard manhood.

He stoked her sex with his hardness. As she reached desperation again, he leaned over her, thrust into her and whispered, "Now."

She heard his permission as she felt him come hard inside her. Her sex spasmed, holding him tight, squeezing orgasm after orgasm from his hardness as her entire body shuddered. She tried, and failed to remain upright, collapsing onto the bed face down with him on top of her.

"I love it when you give me no choice," she moaned.

"You always have a choice. I could have belted you."

"It's never a choice," she whispered. "I always want to obey."

"Then what was today about?" he asked.

"I needed to remember what it feels like to get sentenced to punishment and have no escape."