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« Amy, Christina and Bianca


1. On Board

Spanking Story


Late on duty, a superyacht stewardess is bent over the chart table for the wooden ruler

Part 2»

Amy looked up at the beautiful wooden balconies that crossed over the narrow cobbled streets of Valletta. Ancient street lamps and floodlit stone had guided her through the capital of Malta. For two blissful hours, she'd climbed the cobbled inclines and reveled in the oldest buildings she'd ever seen. This was the point of being a super yacht stewardess. She'd skipped dinner ashore with her crew, she'd seen plenty of them since she'd joined Serena.

Her phone beeped, her reminder to tell her it was time to return to the boat. Plotting a route back, she realized she'd wandered further from the Marina than she'd thought. The route back was uphill. Even the predicted time would put her back on board at 10:15pm.

"Shit," she said, her gentle curse echoing back off the ancient walls. Her shift began at 10pm. The family weren't on board, but the work of a stewardess was never over.

She swapped her jeans and blouse for her short khaki crew skirt and blue polo, 'M/Y Serena' woven over her left breast. Entering the stew pantry, she glanced at the clock - 10:20pm.

Her boss was asleep. Her cabin mate Bianca was the stew on duty.

"You're in trouble, babe," Bianca said, as Amy appeared.

"Sorry. I wandered too far in the old town."

"The First Officer called for coffee ten minutes ago and wanted to know why I was still on duty."

"Damn," Amy clenched her fists by her sides. She liked Dan. This wasn't how she wanted him to see her, or anyone.

"I tried to cover for you. But he asked where you were. I couldn't lie."

"It's okay. I'll see him right away."


"Not your fault."

"Is there a reason you were late on duty tonight?" Dan asked as soon as she entered the bridge. The First Officer stood facing her, the dark night and digital displays behind him.

She faced him, her head lowered in shame. "No, sir. Well, yes, sir. But it's unacceptable." This was flawless, floating luxury at its finest. There was a schedule for everything on board, nothing was ever late. "I was walking in the old town. I went too far and didn't expect it to take so long to get back."

"It's your responsibility to be on duty five minutes before the correct time."

"Yes, sir."

"It's not enough to be a good second stew." He knew she was. Very good, in fact. This was an unusual event, but he must clamp down on lax behavior. On a super yacht, it didn't exist.

He burned the beautiful stewardess with his harsh gaze. Scraped into a high ponytail, her long brunette hair was beautiful. "You must obey your boss's timetable. Your teammate had to keep working with no idea how long you'd be. It's disrespectful and lazy."

His words cut through her. Nobody had ever called her lazy in her life, but he was right. She'd disrespected her friend, her crew, and the boat.

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"Your skirt isn't straight."

She looked down. The tiny splits at the sides of her crew skirt did not line up with her long bare legs.

She twisted the skirt the required half inch. "Sorry, sir."

"Get to work."

She began in the sky lounge, positioning each cushion with perfection. The sun deck looked neat from the stairs, but she went out and checked every surface for out-of-place items or marks.

Looking back down the length of the deck, her gaze rose above the superstructure and up the tall white mast, its arms packed with radar domes and antennas. Her selfishness had been out of order. She was lucky not to have received a whipping at the yard arm, or unlucky because it was what she deserved.

She wiped every surface in every lounge and cleaned all the day heads. They cleaned every bathroom every night, even if no guests were on board. It was always possible someone had touched a surface.

Bianca was still asleep when she slipped, without a sound, into her lower bunk at 4am after handing off to a third stew.

Her harsh scolding dominated her thoughts as she replayed her dressing-down in her mind. She'd deserved it. She slid her hand into her white cotton string bikini panties. They were all she wore in bed.

His words, ever tougher, consumed her mind as she circled her clit. His gaze burned through her as she stood and took her scolding. She slipped down her panties, commanded to do so in her obedient mind, and imagined herself bent over the bench seat at the back of the bridge, skirt up, panties down, getting a scalding spanking from his firm hand. In swift silence, she brought herself off hard.

Sliding her panties back into place, she rolled over to sleep, relaxed but far from satisfied.

She was working the same shift the next evening. She'd apologized to her Chief Stewardess and received a reprimand. This evening, she'd had dinner ashore with the crew. It had been hard to be her usual upbeat self. Everyone knew. There were few secrets on a yacht. She'd displayed a standard unbecoming of a professional stewardess and let her entire crew down.

She didn't work in a pizza parlor or an office job. Her crew must be able to rely on her. She had to be where she was told to be, when she was told to be. In an emergency at sea, she would guide guests to the muster stations. A few minutes late, or the wrong location, could cost lives.

Polishing cutlery in the dining room, she took out her angst on a silver knife as she worried how to rectify the situation. Hard work and dedication would correct her standing with her crew. But her standing with herself was disappointing.

She was an obedient girl. With her recent disgrace hanging over her, she couldn't get back into her groove. Dan was a powerful man, strong enough to put her in her place. She needed him to bring her to order the hard way. It had only happened twice in her life, but each time she had needed hard punishment.

She had received a strict telling off, but being late to work on a super yacht deserved a stiffer penalty. She deserved a thrashing. Maybe she could ask him. If Dan laughed at her, at least her commitment to the job wouldn't be in question. Placing the final knives in their correct places, she went upstairs to the bridge.

On watch again, Dan was sitting in the captain's chair, one of three chairs used to drive the boat.

"Hi, Amy," he said.

He had no rancor. Good teamwork had to continue.

"Hi, Dan. I need to talk about last night."

"Have a seat," he gestured towards the chair beside him.

"I deserved the dressing-down you gave me last night and the one I got from my boss. But it was a serious mistake. There should be a much stiffer penalty. I let myself down, I'm ashamed and I'm struggling to get past it."

"Go on," he said.

Glancing at the back of the bridge, she spied the polished wooden ruler lying on the chart table. Sliding from her high chair, she walked across and picked it up. He spun his chair to watch her as she played with the ruler in her hands.

"It wouldn't be a punishment to scrub the bathrooms, I already do that," she said. "But I want you to give me a proper punishment."

"Do you mean with that?"

She nodded.

He smiled. She wasn't the first girl he'd had to deal with in his life. Riddled with guilt, girls became unproductive. "I'm not surprised by your request," he said, "but you need to have the guts to say it out loud."

She looked up at him. His tight blue polo shirt only just covered his strong biceps. "Dan, I need to you to punish me for what I did. I'm sorry for my lazy attitude last night. Please spank me hard with this ruler."

Her shoulders relaxed. She hadn't realized how tense she'd become.

He climbed down from his chair. "Hand me the ruler." The girl who had entered the bridge without her usual verve was now standing in front of him, the spark back in her eyes.

She handed over the dark polished wood and watched as he landed it with a crack on his palm. "Face the chart table and lift your skirt."

She was the only stew on duty, but someone could come along. She hitched her skirt to her waist, her white cotton string bikini panties revealed.

"Bend over," he commanded.

She obeyed, bent down over the chart table and turned her head. "Spank me hard. I won't break."

Standing over her with the ruler, his firm manner pulsed heat through her sex. The ruler tapped her panties. She clenched her cheeks, anticipating the pain. When it didn't come, she relaxed.

The ruler cracked across her behind. Fiery heat burst across her bottom as the sound ricocheted around the bridge. She pressed her palms into the table, remained silent, and straightened her legs. She respected him. He'd spanked her hard. She breathed to absorb the sizzling sting and deepening pain.

"You have a duty to be on time."

Shame suffused her body. She had a duty to herself and to her crew. The ruler crashed into her cotton. Intense heat burned into her soft skin. She panted through the pain.

"You're doing well. Keep still, I have to be hard on you."

The ruler penetrated its message deep into her behind. Bands of pain burned on her butt. Every stroke thrust hurt deep, a salve to her guilt. She respected herself for taking a fair punishment and pushed her bottom out to meet the ruler.

"Four more hard smacks."

The ruler blistered her backside, landing harsh smacks where her panties didn't cover. She'd get a sore reminder every time she sat for days.

"Well done. Stand up."

She obeyed and turned to face him, wriggling her tight skirt down over her burning bottom. He handed her the ruler. She replaced it in the exact position it had been.

"Thank you," she said. "I deserved every stroke. I'm grateful."

He knew. Her face gave her away. He smiled and said, "I admire you. Do you feel better?"

"Not right now," she smiled, rubbing her bottom through her skirt, "but yes. Thanks for being kind and making it hurt. I'll face my boss and teammates again with pride."

"I'm glad to have helped." He'd never imagined he'd see the beautiful stewardess bent over in tiny white panties for punishment, let alone be the one to deal with her.

She glanced at his shorts. A slight bulge suggested she hadn't been an entire imposition. Thrilled, she said, "Right, I must get back to work."

With a bright smile, she left the bridge with a sore bottom and a calm mind.

She made the beds in all the state rooms. None were in use tonight. Every time she bent down to tuck a sheet and rose again, the muscles in her bottom delivered fresh pain. Punishment as she worked seemed appropriate. The constant reminder kept her sex moist.

Her spirit recharged, she finished her list of jobs an hour before her shift ended. She spent the extra hour checking the guest bathrooms on the boat. In each generous space, she spent several minutes with both hands in her panties, one pleasuring herself, the other feeling the heat from her smacked bottom.

There were four guest bathrooms. With a brief break in between, she brought herself to a crashing orgasm in each one. Admiring the redness edging from her white panties, her mind summoned the sting of the ruler. She saw the view she'd given Dan - her skimpy white panties and reddened cheeks. Waves of orgasms plunged over her hand.

Her respect overflowed at his firm handling. He'd made a lasting impression - on her memory, and her bum. She was proud of herself for taking it.

In the final bathroom, she took off her skirt and panties and spread her legs. The cool toilet lid soothed her burning butt. Dreaming of what Dan would do if he discovered how she'd spent the last hour, she came multiple times, pouring pleasure over her hand.

In her bottom bunk, she felt the thin elastic around her hips and ran her hands under herself to tease her well-punished bottom. It had settled her heart. She was an honest member of the crew again. Sore and punished, she deserved her place on board.