« Spanking Stories

Amelia reined in her expectations as she dressed. She mustn't build up something that wasn't there. Nick had been the most fabulous company last night, and in her dreams when she'd slept, but she may have painted her expectations onto him.

Her vibrant yellow tee and matching bikini panties stared back at her in the mirror. She added her short denim skirt. Not yellow. She only had to see it to know. This wasn't a yellow day.

Before Nick, she hadn't been demanding about her needs. She hadn't known what they were until Charlotte had unlocked her inner excellence. With Nick, she wanted to be obedient and honorable, but sexy as hell. She'd never approached a date this way. Taking off her skirt, she tried fresh white cotton bikini panties, a plain white bra and an ultra-tight white tee which highlighted her breasts. Adding back the skirt, she studied herself in the mirror. A relaxed, cute, obedient girl looked back.

Her wild days were over. She was in her twenties and she'd received the cane. It had been a salutary experience and hurt like hell. Not for a few minutes, but for several days. It had been a proper punishment. She'd asked for it, deserved it, and taken it to heart. That first night, she'd laid face down on her bed and sobbed for all her silliness, grateful for the burning shame and pain of her bottom. When she'd recovered, she'd stood tall, admired her marks in the mirror and committed to being the well-mannered girl she'd been when she was younger. Looking at herself in the mirror right now, that girl looked good.

Her caning from David for speeding was a private matter. She was proud of herself for asking for it and grateful to Charlotte for organizing it. Humiliating, painful and necessary, it had brought her back into line and propelled her straight into the arms of Nick.

She arrived outside the National Photo Gallery at five minutes after ten to be greeted with a hug and another of those definite kisses. Tentative at first, yet charged with underlying passion, it rose in strength and delivered an unmistakable message. She softened in his arms, pleased to be with him again, her sex in heartfelt agreement.

As they approached the entrance to the photo gallery, the girl checking tickets exhibited the pseudo confidence of a weekend employee. Glancing at their proffered tickets, she said, "Your tickets are for the 10am hour, wait over there."

Disappointed with her ignorance, Nick spoke in a firm voice and pointed out the clock behind her, which showed ten minutes after ten.

"Go on then," she said, her entire demeanor a gigantic sulk at his rightness.

The photos were disappointing and unoriginal. After forty minutes, he suggested a drink by the river instead. They walked down to the busy riverside and found a cafe with outdoor tables. After an hour, she felt comfortable enough to nudge the conversation in her intended direction.

"That museum girl was useless with our tickets." Sipping her coffee, she watched his reaction.

"She was plain lazy and arrogant," he said. "There was no call for it."

His hard expression and firm tone ran pleasant shivers down her spine. She pushed harder. "And sulky as hell when you pointed out her error."

"Yes. That was altogether unacceptable. If you make a mistake, own up to it."

"I couldn't agree more," she said, wondering how to take it further.

While they'd been perusing the photos, she'd realized what a golden opportunity the girl's behavior had been and had stored it in her mind, but it was still a long journey from a bit of sulkiness to a sound thrashing.

"A quick 'sorry' and a smile would have been perfect," he said.

It was gold dust. Her heart thumped in her chest. She overrode its fears and dived in head first. Looking him dead in the eye, she asked, "What about when a quick 'sorry' isn't enough?"

They both realized she'd moved the conversation on to them. The museum girl hadn't even got as far as a 'sorry'. Her question had upped the temperature and her skin was warming under his penetrating gaze.

His eyes touched her soul as the longest fifteen seconds of her life ticked over. His gaze burned right into her core, but she didn't look away. She'd played her hand. It was all up to him.

"That's when you bend over," he said. "It shows contrition like nothing else."

Her sex clenched tight and stole her breath. Her mouth opened, but no words came. She'd judged him right. Dead right. He was a good man. Taking a fresh breath, she adopted a meek tone. "I was late this morning and didn't even apologize. Worse, you rewarded me with a fabulous kiss."

She'd chosen to be late. She'd wanted an excuse in hand in case it was useful for her plan. But not apologizing had been a genuine lapse. His kiss had stolen her attention.

He grinned. "Should I have spanked you in front of the museum?"

Her sex lapped up the shame of a public spanking as the vision lubricated her mind. "No," she said. "But later, in private, it would be appropriate."

He understood. His ex-girlfriend, Imogen, had asked him to punish her. It had only happened once or twice before his lack of trust had undermined their relationship, but he still had the implements they'd bought. He'd never punished his ex-wife. Without a doubt, she'd deserved it, but he doubted she'd have recognized the fact.

Looking at Amelia, he smiled. "Answer this question and you'll get everything you want."

She focused her complete mind and body on him.

"This morning, were you late by accident?"

She knew he knew. Comfortable warmth flooded her. "No," she said.

"Lazy time keeping and a failure to apologize. Not things to be proud of. You deserve to be dealt with."

"I do," she said.

"I'm not joking," he warned.

"Neither am I."

They both digested the sudden intensity. She reached across the table and took his hand. "Please punish me."

"Let's walk to my place," he said. "It's ten minutes along the river. There's time to change your mind."

Standing, she said, "I don't back out of commitments."

He stood too. David had described her as honorable. He saw it with his own eyes. All he wanted to do was hold her tight and love her, but first he must deal with her.

Slipping her arm into his, she said, "When you've dealt with me, we're heading to the bedroom."

"We might not make it to the bedroom."

Leaning into his powerful arm, she said, "Even better."

His modern penthouse was all clean lines and glass. She could see back down the river as far as the cafe.

Approaching with a black leather spanking paddle, he said, "You can see the world from up here, but they can't see you. The glass is one way."

The possibilities of the glass in her mind, she accepted the paddle to inspect. Shaped like a small ping pong paddle, she smacked it against her palm and regretted it.

He saw her reaction. "Not as innocent as it looks?"

"No, that's going to sting."

"Too much?" he asked.

"I got caned growing up. The only problem here, will be if you don't punish me hard enough. I want to feel sorry for my behavior. More sorry than I've felt in a long time. Only then will I feel better about it."

"That, I can do," he said. "Your denim skirt is cute. Take it off and stand there." He pointed to a spot by the end of the black suede couch.

She obeyed, placing her skirt on an armchair, thrilled he thought it cute. Standing by the arm of the couch in her tight white tee and white cotton bikini panties, she faced him again.

"You were right on time last night, so we know you can be. But you were late this morning. That you arrived late on purpose is appalling and I will reflect it on your bottom. Being late is rude and lazy. Doing it on purpose is disrespectful and has earned you a hard spanking."

Her sex tightened at his scolding. Masterful and tough, he was brilliant.

He pointed to the arm of the couch. "Bend over."

She turned to face the suede couch. If she'd wanted to run, her mind would have refused. The only thing she wanted to do was obey him. She bent over the arm. Flat and wide, it supported her hips in comfort as she placed her arms on the seat. Her long blond hair cascaded around her and she tucked it behind her ears. Her plain white panties stretched tight, baring her lower curves and her sex pulsed pleasurable sparks at her vulnerability.

The leather paddle smacked hard into her right cheek. Bearable at first, she enjoyed the fresh sting. Successive smacks overlaid each other, and the once pleasurable sting turned into fresh meaningful pain. Burn blossomed through her bottom as the pain spread. She deserved it. She'd been a rude girl. As hard smacks rained down, she squirmed.

"Stay still," he ordered, adding six hard smacks for her disobedience.

Caught up in a storm of painful pride and intense pleasure, it took a moment to realize her spanking had ended.

"Stand up," he commanded.

Pressing against the couch seat, she stood and faced him. "I'm sorry I was late this morning. It was rude and lazy. Thank you for spanking me."

Rubbing her burning bottom through her thin panties without embarrassment, she basked in the heat of his ardent gaze.

"You took it well, but we still have the matter of your failure to apologize."

Her sexy state escalated. He wasn't letting her off, not for her lateness or her lack of apology. Her sex throbbed in furious pleasure at his firmness. She wanted him to never stop being hard on her. She would list her every failure in her entire life, if he'd just keep holding her to account.

"Go to those shelves," he pointed, "and bring me what you find on top in the center."

Her panties rose, baring more of her reddened bottom, as she reached to the top of the built-in shelves. Her fingers wrapped around the thin shaft. She didn't need to see. She'd felt a cane enough times in her life to recognize what was under her fingers. Entranced by his cool, confident command, she retrieved the yellow rattan punishment rod.

Returning to him, she met his eye and held his gaze. Handing over the cane, she said, "Please will you be my boyfriend?"

His shocked look proved she still had the power to knock him off his game.

"Yes," he said. "I'd love to be your boyfriend." He looked her up and down, and said, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," she said, a tiny grin playing at the corners of her mouth. She hadn't known she was going to ask him, but with the cane in hand it had come from her heart.

He moved over to the dining table near the window. "You never even tried to apologize."

Brought back to this morning's failure by his hard tone, she lowered her head in shame.

He pointed to the dining table. "Bend over."

Ashamed of her poor manners, she bent over, rested her arms on the table and pushed out her panty-clad bottom.

The cane tapped her panties. She breathed out, at peace. Her heart burst with pride. He was a good man and tough on her. Against the odds, she'd made it.

The cane thrashed into her behind. Soaring pain leaped across her cheeks. Fierce fire stole her breath, but she stayed dead-still. Not a sound left her lips. Twice more the rattan seared her soft skin, branding three tight stripes into her soft girl flesh.

"I will discipline you, girlfriend. Here's my promise. Take three steps back from the table, bend over and touch your toes."

Obeying, her fingers touched the toes of her white sneaker socks, her panty-clad bottom high in the air. The depth of her obedience flooded her with self-respect. He'd ordered her into this tough position and she'd obeyed without a word. The cane rested across the sensitive seam where her bottom met her legs. She'd made him prove his promise and deserved the intense pain she was about to receive.

"I promise to be fair and hard," he said.

The cane lashed into her sensitive skin. Agony scorched her softness. She pressed her fingers into her toes and processed his promise with pride. For days she'd feel the depth of his commitment, and every time it hurt she'd smile.

She heard him drop the cane on the table and he stroked her back. "You can get up when you're ready."

Rising, she grabbed him. "Boyfriend, I want you," she gasped, undoing his belt.

They shed their clothes, eyes locked on each other. His rock hard manhood proved he wanted her with the same desperation she felt.

Turning to the window, she spread her feet, bent over and pressed her hands against the floor to ceiling glass, "Take me," she cried.

She could see the cafe in the distance as his hardness plunged into her soaking sex. His hands gripped her hips as he thrust deep into her. The glass misted in front of her as she panted, drawing him further into her sex and gripping him as he powered his manhood through her, demanding her compliance. Pressed against the glass, she held firm while his hardness consumed her.

He was her boyfriend. She felt his declaration rising. She couldn't hold back. Thrusting deep inside her, he came, plunging her over the edge of her pleasure. Aflame in pure naked passion from head to toe, she screamed his name. Swathes of orgasms blasted through her body. Waves of pleasure eclipsed her pain, drowned her in bliss and dragged her hands down the glass. As her legs gave way, she followed them to the floor, taking him with her.

Sliding them over to the soft white sheepskin rug, he wrapped her bare curves in his muscular arms and pulled her tight. Intoxicated by total euphoria, he lifted his head and called, "Alexa. Play music, I love."

Around the room, subtle speakers erupted and soared into the middle of a huge love ballad. Heavy tones throbbed the floor and windows.

"That's embarrassing," he muttered.

Stunned, she cried, "Leave it. I grew up singing this in my bedroom."

Humming loud with pure joy, but unable to decipher the words, she asked, "What language is it?"

"Portuguese. Nada Cambiará Mi Amor por Ti."

In English, she knew every word of the timeless smash hit. "It's beyond beautiful in Portuguese," she cried.

It was fate.

As the tune changed up an octave, her heart rose and her future filled the room. Fate had dealt her the perfect hand. She was in the right place, at the right time, and he was the right man. Tears rolled down her cheeks as alongside her brand new boyfriend, and Glenn Medeiros, she sang "Nothing's gonna change my love for you."