« Spanking Stories

« Charlotte, Amelia, Imogen and Takisha


23. Dress Fitting

Spanking Story


Failing to share, a hopeful singer is held to account

«Beginning Part 24»

Charlotte tidied the founder's office. It had got a mess in the past week and she couldn't stand it. It had been a tremendous year. Kat's soaring stardom had kept their email inbox filled with accolades and praise for the talented girl. Her songs soared into success with every release, dominating YouTube, Spotify, and Apple Music. Her show was the talk of the press. On Amazon Prime Video, 'Miss Misty' had forty-five thousand five star reviews

Helen and Tina had taken different paths. Helen had sung fervent pop hits. With Takisha's skill in getting new attention off the ground on YouTube, Helen had a steady million likes per new song and had starred in two commercials. Her latest song was in an ad for Imogen's old Golden Blip Biscuits. Imogen's contacts had been the key. It seemed despite leaving the Inspiration team, she wasn't lacking inspiration and Helen's addictive new pop hit suited the fiendish ginger snack.

Tina had rocked it in guest roles on three different procedural shows. In one, her take on an obtuse detective had extended the role for ten more episodes. It was enough to get her noticed. They'd booked her for the next year with guest roles and an exciting new drama already filming in Australia.

Charlotte glanced out the office window at the girls' house, in the trees near the lake. They saw their graduates whenever they made it home. All four of them were already contributing to the Girl Act coffers. Three new girls had moved into the house by the lake. With a fresh round of talent, Imogen, Takisha and her were busy again; teaching day-to-day etiquette and honing their student's talents.

Emily knocked on the open office door and entered. A gentle smile expanded across Charlotte's face. During her first week in the house, the girl hadn't knocked. Her manners had needed more work than most. With the help of her strict co-founders, Charlotte had kept Emily on a tight rein, dealing with the slightest infraction of proper manners on the spot. Despite this, Emily had still been on the Friday List every week for her first month.

On the verge of tears, Emily said, "I don't have a ball gown." The problem had been embarrassing her ever since she'd learned she'd be going to the Golden Talisman Awards. The Awards were this weekend and among this year's nominees was Kat in not one, but three different categories.

Kat's powerful songs had graced the airwaves, her singing career an inevitable offshoot of her hit show. People loved her sixties style love songs with a simple moral. Charlotte had worked hard to hook her up with a song writer who could extend on what her TV show had started. The network had already brought the show back for a second season, just six months after the first had aired. They couldn't get enough of Kat's commitment to female empowerment. It meant she was a must on every chat show, a walking, talking advertisement for Girl Act.

Not only was she the most nominated new actress in the history of the awards, but they'd asked her to sing as well. For the most important night of Kat's career, it was going to be a full turn out on behalf of Girl Act.

"Oh, Emily," Charlotte said, opening her arms to the girl. "Come here. Why didn't you say sooner?"

"Everyone else has one. I couldn't afford one, and have never needed a ball gown, until now."

"We'll sort it," Charlotte said, giving the girl a hug.

Girl Act's slick website allowed any girl to upload a talent video for a shot at joining the elite. But Charlotte still found the best source of fresh talent was the quiet ones at Girl Plan; the girls who'd reached out for help, but didn't know what they had inside. Emily had been one of those. She'd spotted the girl playing the baby grand and singing for a group of others. The song had changed, and the group had got larger when she'd passed by again thirty minutes later.

She helped less at the charity these days, but her name on the board carried far greater weight because Girl Act was such a success. Among the girls she was a hero, someone who could make you.

"Sit," She ordered Emily, pointing to one of the white mesh swivel chairs around the long white table. Grabbing her phone, she scrolled her contacts and made the call. She knew a boutique with its own seamstress. She'd called on her many times over the past year.

"Thank you," she said, placing her phone back on the table and turning to Emily.

"Be ready at the front door at 2pm. Ask Mr. Williams to drive us. We're going to a boutique in the city where we'll find you a ball gown."

The look of relief on Emily's face was an instant reward. It made Charlotte smile.

"No, you can't come," Emily said into her phone.

Approaching the front door, Charlotte noticed the emphatic reply and frowned. She disliked the tone Emily had used. The words alone might be appropriate, but the girl's tone made them seem less so.

Outside the door, their black Mercedes van sat waiting. The six luxury seats in the back made journeys pleasant. It had been a good purchase, and Mr. Williams kept it in perfect condition.

Motioning to Emily to pause her phone call, she asked, "Who can't come?"

Emily held the phone against her chest to avoid the caller overhearing.

"It's two of the girl's I was mentoring at Girl Plan. They want to come to my dress session this afternoon. I told them no."

"Why?" Charlotte asked.

Emily looked stark as her, "Because it's my dress fitting."

"Don't you think they might enjoy being on the edge of such an exciting moment in your life?"

"Well, yes, maybe," Emily said with obvious reluctance.

"Tell them, 'Yes'. The boutique is a block and a half from Girl Plan's office."

Knowing better than to argue, Emily put the phone back to her ear and delivered the good news. Charlotte heard the squeals of delight as pleasure poured down the phone and put a smile on Emily's face. The younger girl clarified times and gave the excited girls the address.

When Emily finished her call, Charlotte said, "Wait for me in the office. I'm just going to tell Mr. Williams we'll be running late."

Charlotte walked into the founder's office and closed the door. "I'm disappointed in you, Emily. I'm helping you sort out a ball gown. The least you could do is share some of that kindness. It's only trying on dresses. Unlike you, those girls aren't going to the awards themselves. What's it going to cost you to share some of the fun?"

Chastened, Emily bowed her head in shame.

Charlotte looked at the girl. Her black sleeveless scoop-neck body-con dress showcased her stunning curves. "I'm going to cane you, Emily, for your poor attitude. But first, I want to know why."

"It's my moment," Emily said. "I didn't want to share it."

"Will it be any less your moment, if girl's you care about share a little of it with you?"

"No, miss."

"You care about them, don't you?"

She knew Emily did. The reports on her mentoring had been something she'd considered before offering the girl a spot at Girl Act.

"Yes," Emily said, her voice strained. "I do care, always have. I didn't have to be selfish and I'm sorry."

Emily's face gave away the truth of her words. The girl hadn't orchestrated her swift climb down. It was genuine.

"I believe you," Charlotte said. "But I'm still going to cane you. This afternoon, you'll have to contend with the risk of those girls seeing the marks on your bottom, and you'll be good and sore."

"Yes, miss." Emily said. Picturing her embarrassment, shame doused her.

Charlotte went to the cane closet and took out a regular one. She'd planned on giving Emily a good thrashing when she'd heard the girl downstairs on the phone. But seeing her remorse and obvious recognition of what she'd done, a swift six would take care of it.

"Lift your dress," She ordered, walking back down the room.

Emily obeyed, raising the tight dress up to her waist and exposing white cotton panties covered in tiny gold stars.

"Wouldn't a string have been more suitable for trying on ball gowns?" she asked.

"I don't have one, miss."

"We'll sort that too this afternoon. Under a ball gown, something small and subtle might feel nice."

Emily smiled and said, "Thank you."

The idea of such daring and elegant underwear excited her. Nobody would know what she wore beneath her ball gown, but she would.

"Bend over," Charlotte said, her voice firm.

Emily obeyed. The first time she'd ever had to bend over, Charlotte had needed to show her the correct position. Now she was an expert. The cane hurt like hell, but she'd found pleasure in her punishment. Studying her marks in her bathroom that first night, she'd found her hand in her panties before she realized what she was doing. The shocking flow of pleasure had stunned her, and she'd spent most of the night repeating it while she analyzed herself.

Her forearms on the white desk, humility washed over her. She appreciated being punished. Charlotte would lift the responsibility for her actions from her shoulders. All she had to do was accept the pain she was due and the transaction would be complete, her guilt erased and replaced with a solid sense of pride.

The cane hovered near her cotton. She could feel every nerve ending in her bottom as anticipation crackled through her fear. The crack of the cane echoed off the office walls and fire tore across her panty-clad bottom. She tightened her grip on the sides of the narrow table as the hurt soared to a stunning peak. She'd learned fast that the initial impact wasn't the worst sting. It was the rising pain as it took effect that hurt the most. Her heart rose with the pain. She'd been mean to her girls. No longer their official mentor, it wasn't a role she could escape, or wanted to. She'd put the rapport she'd built in jeopardy for selfish reasons. Burning shame branded her cheeks as the cane marked her lack of grace on her bottom.

"True stars are gracious," Charlotte said. "Were you?"

"No, miss," she said, her voice projecting her passion, shame, and acute pain.

"Good girl. Let's make these last two mean something. To offer you some privacy this afternoon, I won't cane you low were it will show, but I'll make these last two count."

Emily appreciated the generous gesture and pressed her breasts into the table to take her last two with the utmost respect. Charlotte was being nothing but kind to her. The cane lashed into the center of her cheeks, burning two fast lines of fire, both soaring side by side in tandem as she panted at the table. She deserved the agony of the double strokes. Her honesty tore apart her guilt and blew it away.

"Stand up," Charlotte ordered.

Emily obeyed. Steeped in respect for the lesson she'd learned, she faced Charlotte, and said, "Thank you. You have a way of teaching a lesson which works. Thank you for correcting me."

Charlotte smiled. "You're a good girl, Emily. Get yourself sorted and down to the van."

Darkness had fallen when Emily lay on her bed. At the front of the house, she could see over the lake. The lights from the garden reflected off the still water. It had only taken four dresses to get the perfect look. Any of them would have thrilled her, but Charlotte had said the fuchsia-pink gown was the best. Its bold presence had blown her mind. She'd never looked that pretty in all her life. Underneath it, she'd been wearing a tiny pink satin string and matching low cut strapless bra.

In the boutique's mirrors she'd felt regal. As she'd pivoted so had the fuschia-pink girl in the mirror to the stunning applause of her army of fans. They'd made the experience rich and wonderful. She was able to enjoy their excitement because under her dress her bottom stung. She'd never known she could look so stunning, but they'd taken it for granted. Charlotte had been right to cane her. She'd made those girls happy, and in return they'd made her afternoon.

Lying naked on her bed, she touched her sore ridges on her bare behind. Her spare hand strayed to her clit as she stared at the precious fuchsia-pink satin panties on the window ledge. The dress was safe in her closet but she wanted to admire the panties.

In her mind she was bent over her bed in only her satin string. A powerful man had brought her home in her ball gown. Demanding her body, as he had all night, she'd made him wait and watch as she'd undone the tight-fitting bodice and let the elegant gown slip away. His eyes had locked on her sexy panties. Unable to resist her for a moment longer, he'd bent her over the bed. She'd shed her bra, but kept her cute panties.

Her eyes fixed on the tiny fuschia-pink strings, she teased her clit with firm strokes at the vulnerability she felt in such skimpy underwear. Her powerful man entered her from behind, muttering approval of the six red ridges across her bare bottom. His approval showed in every deep thrust into her desperate body.

She imagined him ordering her over her bed, not for a fucking, but a hard caning. The sudden switch to strict discipline blew stunning orgasms into her sex. She rode the outpouring of pleasurable pride, writhing naked under her finger as waves of fuchsia-pink bliss blew her away.