« Spanking Stories

Five years earlier...

Snow topped Alps in the distance, the green hills of summer surrounded Villa Chavornay. Takisha smoothed the Almond Oil soap over her honey-gold skin, luxuriating in its delicate scent as she switched legs. The rainfall shower was a welcome pleasure after an afternoon outdoors. The room she shared with Imogen was not as large as her bedroom at home, but well appointed, and the huge white marble bathroom thrilled them both.

She'd spent the day learning about questions to ask a potential gardener, designs suitable for a garden and how to instruct such a gardener should she find one suitable for employment.

The Swiss finishing school was world renowned for producing young women with elegance and good breeding. Tonight, it was her turn to lay the dinner table for twenty. A cinch. She had a perfect record in table setting. Her first time, she'd placed the oyster forks among the forks to the left of the plate. Spotting the error before Madame Viviane arrived to pass judgement, her friend Imogen had swept around the table, moving each oyster fork to the right of the spoons on the right side of the plate.

Two thousand six hundred miles from home, Takisha didn't miss the desert heat, or the carved stone pillars and ornate glass patterned walls of her home. With four hundred rooms, many she'd never visited, home was a palace. She wasn't a princess, but you wouldn't know it from the way her father treated her. She'd grown up surrounded by outstanding wealth, excluded from normal life. The strict rules, tough judgements and intensity at Villa Chavornay were freedom.

Too much freedom. She spun the shower knob over to full cold. Drenched in frigid water, she pictured the hard abs of last night's adventure. Released into the nearby city of Montreux, she'd progressed from the night club terrace overlooking lake Geneva to a nearby hotel by 10pm and still made it back by 1am. The first time she'd only had an hour in bed, but after four conquests she'd perfected the art of flexing her nineteen-year-old curves.

Standing still under the grueling water, she fixed his hard body in her mind and replayed every moment of their encounter until she was freezing and sorry. Shutting off the water, she stepped out of the shower. It was nothing compared to the lash her father would have flogged her with, but the cold and miserable punishment eased her guilt. The cold shower had been an accident the first time. She'd turned the knob the wrong way. Coinciding with a heavy bout of guilt, she'd stayed under the water accepting it as deserved.

After four punishment showers, the empty sex was looking less lovely. She enjoyed the conquest far more than the outcome. Maybe next time she'd stop as soon as she got a man to suggest a hotel room.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Before she could open it, Imogen called, "I need a wee."

She opened the door and slipped out of the bathroom in her towel, smiling at her roommate.

"Thanks," Imogen called as she shut the door fast.

Drying her long black hair in the warm bedroom, Takisha opened her wardrobe to decide on her dress for dinner. Over a hundred dresses and suits filled the wardrobe.

"Oh god," Imogen said, coming out of the bathroom. "I feel so much better, sorry."

Takisha grinned. "I'd almost finished. Sorry I took so long." Dropping her towel, she pulled a black string from the top drawer of her built-in double-width wardrobe.

"You look freezing," Imogen said.

Stepping into her string, Takisha saw the vibrant red hue drummed into her honey-gold skin in the wardrobe-door mirror. "I took a cold shower," she said, snapping her elastic into place.

"Was the water not working?"

"I do it sometimes. It's good for me."

"For your skin?"

Takisha paused. She didn't want to lie to Imogen. She adored her roommate. "I deserved it."

"Whatever for?"

"The meaningless sex."

Imogen looked stunned at her friend, catching her eye in the mirror's corner. "Is it a punishment?"

"Yes. Sort of. I feel dreadful. My father and mother would never approve. Pulling a magnificent set of muscles is flattering, and the sex is good and sweaty, but the thirty minute car ride home is long enough for me to have regrets."

"How long do you spend in the cold shower?"

"Three or four minutes."

"Wow. You're tough on yourself."

"Not tough enough. My father would have flogged me."

"How so?"

"A long leather lash. He'd have welted my bottom so well it hurt for a week."

"I get caned," Imogen said.

"Is that worse?"

"I don't know. The welts hurt for three or four days, maybe not a week, but the pain is phenomenal while it's happening."

"I've got away with so much since I've been here. I love it, and sort of hate it too."

Imogen smiled. "It helps to get spanked, doesn't it?"

Takisha nodded.

"I feel forgiven and correct again."

"Me too," Takisha said, fitting her plain black bra. She had to be ready an hour before Imogen and the other girls. She must place every piece of cutlery with a ruler, and Madame Viviane would check it the same way.

"When I've done something I know I shouldn't have," Imogen said, "I feel guilty. Maybe not at first, but soon enough I always do."

"Me too," Takisha nodded. "Left alone, the guilt multiplies until you can't ignore it. Being punished is necessary to regain my self-respect. I've been losing mine at a steady pace since I arrived."

"I'm not too thrilled with myself either," Imogen said. "Last night, I never even found out his name and didn't realize until after the sex. I got straight up, dressed and left."

"Maybe a few minutes under the cold shower would help you feel better too."

"Is it as effective as a sore bottom?"

"No chance. And it's over too soon. But it beats letting myself off."

Imogen stepped across the room to her built-in wardrobe. Shifting the hanging garments, she reached to the back and pulled out her Hersey and Son sterling silver riding crop. The small, carved, sterling silver horse head handle belied the effectiveness of the leather wrapped shaft and flexible leather tab.

Looking at her roommate, she said, "Would you like me to punish you? I can assure you this is a damn sight more effective than a cold shower." Riding with her parents on their five hundred acre equestrian estate, it had cut through her jodhpurs and her insufferable attitude. The four thin welts had stung like hell in the saddle and lasted for days.

Takisha looked at the riding crop in her friend's hands. "You mean whip me? Would you?"

"I understand you. It's hard to have too much freedom. I feel the same. Yes, I'm offering to give you a whipping and be in no doubt it will hurt and mark you. You'll be sore for a few days. I'm proposing a proper punishment."

Takisha abandoned the black dress she'd been going to put on and stood closer to her friend. 'Proper punishment' ripped around her head as uncontrollable heat blasted into her sex. Her pleasure wouldn't take away any of the pain or the embarrassment, but it would make her suffering more manageable.

"I've already taken my cold shower and forgiven myself for last night," she said, "but there is an old matter which I still feel guilty about."

"When I covered for you with the oyster forks?"

"How did you know!!?" Takisha exclaimed.

"It's how I think too. It was early days, and I didn't want you to get into trouble. But I should have let you learn from your mistake."

"I appreciated it, but I didn't deserve it. We both know my perfect table setting score isn't quite true."

Imogen smiled. She looked at her white-gold Cartier Baignoire watch, "You've got to be in the dining room in thirty minutes. It would be a true punishment to lay the table and sit through dinner with a well-whipped bottom."

"I accept," Takisha said.

Imogen raised her hand. "One condition. You whip me too for stepping in and covering for you. We both know the right thing would have been to leave it alone." Her overstepping had brought them together. But when Takisha had brought it up, the riding crop in her hands had forced her to admit she deserved punishment as much as her friend.

"How many strokes would be fair?" Takisha asked.

"Six will be a hard punishment. It's thin, so each stroke is quite vicious."

"I'll take my six. Will you?"

Imogen lowered her head, "Yes. I will and I'll be grateful for them."

Allowing herself a moment to take in her own humble acceptance, she lifted her head and tapped the crop against her hand. "Bend over the end of your bed."

Takisha moved to her bed nearest the bathroom. Resting her hands on the white linen, she bent and lowered her weight down onto them, offering her bare bottom to the riding crop.

Respect poured through Imogen. There had been no fuss, delay or doubt. Her friend had obeyed with distinction. Resting the leather tab against her friend's farthest cheek, she reminded herself to flex the crop hard enough to hurt, but no harder.

Takisha relaxed. It had been too long since she'd had a flogging. For all the reasons she'd ever strayed, she'd take this whipping with pride, even if it was worse than she expected.

The leather shaft cracked into her bare flesh. Searing pain burst from a thin line of fire. She panted, her eyes fixed on the bedcovers as pain tore across her tender cheeks. It wasn't as bad as the lash, but it was far from kind. She pressed her hands into her bed as the agony escalated.

"It wasn't a good idea to let me help you cheat, was it?" Imogen asked. She knew being scolded while being whipped hit home with her and hoped it would do the same for her friend.

Takisha turned her head to the side, "No. It was foolish and driven by ego."

The cruel shaft whipped hard into her bare bottom, branding a fierce line of pain an inch below the last. She panted as the pain merged into a band of hurt.

"You're brilliant at table settings," Imogen said. "Take these last four strokes and you'll have earned your full score."

Bent over the bed, adoration burst from Takisha's heart. It was such a kind thing to say. "I will," she replied.

Each stroke was as hard as the last, leveling out her pain and escalating it again. She didn't move an inch as her friend flogged her. Her respect for Imogen and for herself soared as pain engulfed her behind.

The crop tapped low where she'd sit. She sucked in her breath.

"This time, I won't whip you here," Imogen said, "But make no mistake, if you need this again, I can make it more painful and more embarrassing for you, and I will."

Takisha processed the promise, grateful for the kindness this time, but pleased with the commitment to do this again. The last stroke sliced across the middle of her cheeks, ensuring a wide band of burn would accompany her to dinner.

"It's over," Imogen said, putting down her crop on Takisha's bed.

The punished girl stood and turned, "Thank you for flogging me."

"I'm not sure it was a flogging," Imogen said.

"That's what it's called where I come from."

"Then I flogged you. Was it okay?"

Takisha stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her friend, "More than okay. It's painful and perfect."

Imogen hugged her back, pleased to have made her friend proud. Through their vast window, she watched as the Alps in the distance changed color with the setting sun.

Takisha stood back and went to the bathroom. Leaving the door open, she turned to inspect her bare bottom in the surround-lit mirror. Six proud welts adorned the peak of her bottom. She inspected them with a delicate touch. Even her gentle caress amplified the hurt.

"Sore enough?" Imogen asked as her friend came back out.

"Yes. Thank you. I owe you the same."

She slipped on her simple black evening dress, keen to cover her shameful punishment, and grabbed the riding crop from her bed. She looked Imogen straight in the eye. "Underwear is fair. Strip."

The force of her friend's control thrilled Imogen. She unhooked her mint-green, flared skirt, lowered the zip and dropped it to the floor, revealing her white cotton string bikini panties. She unbuttoned her white lace blouse, slipped it from her shoulders and placed both it and her skirt on the chair by her wardrobe.

In her plain white bra and panties, she stood before her friend. Being forced to strip on command had thrust wet heat into her sex. She hoped it didn't show.

"Bend over the end of your bed," Takisha ordered.

Before she bent, Imogen slipped her fingers into the thin strings of her panties and eased them down over her hips. She bent over her bed, white cotton pooled at her feet.

Turning her head to the side, she said, "You got it bare. It's only fair I get the same."

"Good girl. I was going to order your panties down, anyway."

Imogen smiled. She'd have been proud to obey. The crop tapped her bare cheeks. On the end of the crop, the leather tab blasted sting into her right cheek as the shaft bit into her soft skin. Vivid sting ripped across her cheeks. She panted hard, processing the pain.

"Kindness isn't always kind, is it?" Takisha scolded.

Along with the pain, her friend's words resonated.

"No, it was the wrong thing to do. I'm sorry."

"Let's make sure of that," Takisha said.

The crop cut into Imogen's cheeks, penetrating sting where it would hurt the longest. The sizzling surface of her skin heralded the deep pain driven into her butt. She held herself still and took the punishment her arrogance had earned. She should have left the oyster forks in the wrong place. It would have done Takisha more good in the long run. Sincere strokes punished her ego. As pain poured into her backside, the irritation she'd felt with herself dissolved into admiration for her firm friend.

The crop tapped her vulnerable skin where her bottom met her thighs. "Imogen, I'm well aware how much it hurts to be flogged here. I too, will not hesitate to do it if you deserve it. Being denied the chance to wear tiny shorts, because of your punishment, can be as effective as the strokes themselves."

Imogen respected the threat. Her dad had thrashed her there, forcing her to wear long shorts for days. The added humiliation of having to cover up when others were bare had deepened her remorse.

The crop whipped hard into the center of her cheeks, scorching its ultimate message and leaving her sore and well marked.

"It's over, babe. You took your flogging well."

Imogen stood and hugged her friend. Takisha wrapped her arms around the punished girl and tightened her hold. "Thank you for whipping me," Imogen said. "It was kind."

"You've got an hour to get over it before dinner. Me, I have to be downstairs in five minutes."

"Was spanking you now, too cruel?" Imogen asked, stepping free.

"No, not at all. We'll both lower ourselves onto our chairs tonight with flawless grace. However much it hurts, and it will hurt, we'll hold bright convivial conversation, letting no one realize we've both been spanked."

"Monitor me," Imogen said. "If I let the side down, whip me again before bed."

"Same here," Takisha said. "But I won't fail."