« Spanking Stories

Amelia rolled onto her back on the white Scandinavian sheepskin rug which stretched along the full length of their wooden penthouse floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass. Gray Calvin Klein pajama leggings encased her bottom and a black tee cushioned her bare breasts.

It was a soft Sunday for them both. Lying around, reading, talking and snacking. Nick's Ralph Lauren black cotton sleep pants, and a white crew neck tee softened his rugged strength. She loved days like today.

"Who does she remind you of?" she asked.

They'd enjoyed all the books in Alice North's hit series. Other people in the world also felt spanking mattered. It was nice to know. They'd just finished reading 'Rules' together. She'd been holding her secret tight, desperate with every chapter to tell him but not wanting to color his enjoyment with facts.

"David's Charlotte is the most well-mannered girl I know," Nick said. "Since she has the same name as Charlotte in the book, I thought of her a few times while we were reading."

"Is she more well-mannered than me?" She grinned, enjoying teasing him.

"Not more beautiful," he said. "But for manners, she has us all beat."

She grinned. He wasn't wrong. It was time. Rolling onto her side, she looked at him. "Rules," she tapped the book on the floor by her head, "is Charlotte's true story. I didn't want to tell you before you read it. I wanted you to enjoy it first, but it's not healthy to have secrets between us. She only told me the night before it came out."

"Wow," he said, lost for words.

"She's aware I'm going to tell you. She's fine with it, but you must keep her secret."

"With all my heart," he said. "She's a gutsy girl, and a very well-disciplined one too. I'm impressed with David."

He lay on his back beside her. She saw the cog wheels of his brain slotting everything into place and waited for it.

"You're the real Amelia," he said. "It's you in that chapter. David caned you for speeding," he said.

"Yes. I asked for it. That chapter's true. I was off course. Charlotte showed me a way to get my life under control. I did it for myself. It was strict, painful and punishing, but he was very kind as he caned me. I needed it. I never told you because it was private and in the past, but I don't mind you knowing because I'm proud of it. Without David, and maybe without that serious spanking, I'd never have met you. I hope you understand," she pleaded.

"I do," he said. "It's odd. But, I do."

Although it should have been a shock, it wasn't. Her desire for strict punishment had been genuine and had drawn him in, alongside her stunning good looks and deep honesty. He didn't mind that she'd shared a shocking and special punishment experience with David. She was right. Without it, David might never have mentioned her to him.

"In the book it also said you remembered the last time you'd got punished. Why was that?"

She would answer every question he had. She hadn't enjoyed keeping a secret from him, and its release had put her on a roll.

"I was nineteen. I came home from my first semester at university. My mom asked me if there had been any boys. I said no. Later, when we were alone in the house, I admitted I'd lied. I'd slept with several boys already and wanted to discuss them with my mom."

"Did you?" he asked.

"At length, afterwards. First, she made me fetch the cane. At the kitchen table, she made me drop my jeans and panties, and bend over. I got six hard strokes on the bare for lying. We both knew it was a punishment for sleeping around, but I was grateful because I'd gone a bit boy crazy."

"How many men have you slept with?"

With a naughty smile, she replied, "Only you."

"Did you just lie to me?" he asked.

She rolled towards him and nodded.

"Fetch the cane," he ordered.

She jumped up and got it from the top of the shelves, handing it down to him. He hadn't moved.

"Come back down here," he commanded.

She obeyed, returning to her previous spot on the rug beside him.

"I'm going to cane you for lying," he said.

About this, she would always lie. A girl must keep some things to herself. Since she would continue to lie, she expected to pay a price. "I deserve it," she said.

"Roll onto your front," he commanded.

She obeyed. The softness of her clothes and the rug contrasted with his hard tone as she lay her head on her folded arms and felt the cane tap against her thin pajama covered bottom.

He raised himself on his elbow. In his uncomfortable position, he'd could only inflict light taps, but the flexible rattan would still deliver a mighty sting.

Intense for a moment, the sharp sting faded fast, but it was enough for her to know he'd caned her as promised. It came again, lower on her sensitive bum. The combined strokes stung heat into the surface of her skin.

She liked the firm 'cracks' in the soft room, a reminder he loved her enough to be true to his word and cane her. The sixth stroke stung like the first, but by now she could no longer feel the first. It was a pleasant way to receive a light punishment, and she appreciated his self-respect and kindness in not letting her off. It was meaningful rather than painful.

He laid the cane beside them.

She rolled onto her side to look at him. "Thank you for caning me. I deserved it. You're good for me."

He smiled at her, gazed down at her long, toned, gray legs, and said, "You're beautiful."

Her smile softened as only he could do to her.

"How many men have you slept with?" he asked again, upping the stakes.

She grinned, "Only you." He'd bet against the wrong girl.

"Roll over," he commanded.

She obeyed him, lying on her front again, excited by his firmness.

"Push your leggings down," he ordered.

She reached back and lifted her hips to slide them down her legs, presenting her bare bottom in white Calvin Klein string panties.

"You'll feel this a little more," he warned.

"I've continued to lie. It's the least I deserve," she said.

The cane tapped her behind and cracked into her bareness. She breathed in at the acute sting on her bare flesh. This was more effective. Now, she knew she was being punished. Her sex turned his strict strokes into wet heat as the sting burned her bottom, even though his strokes were light.

He marked six meaningful lines of sting on her bare cheeks and put the cane back between them.

There was a price for lying, one she was prepared to pay. Her marks would last an hour or two, no more. He was letting her know she couldn't get away with it.

She rolled onto her side, enjoying his fiery gaze on the sharp cut of the front of her white string panties. His eyes took her in, and returned to her face, "You'll never tell me the truth will you?"

"A girl has a right to forget her past. You replaced every man I've ever met. In my mind now, there's only you."

"I love you," he said, surprising her, "I know you'll never answer me."

"I love you too. Give me a good hard six for my lie and let me have it forever," she said, kicking off her leggings and standing up.

She moved behind the couch while he got up and picked up the cane from the floor. She bent over the back of the black suede and placed her arms on the seat. "Cane me hard so I never think I can get away with a lie in the future."

His pleasure in her position stretched his black sleep pants. He'd felt the tinge of honor on the edge of her naughty behavior. He wouldn't let her down. She could have her secret, but he'd make her pay the price for it. He tapped the cane against her bare cheeks. Now able to flex his arm, he brought it down hard.

The first stroke scorched serious sting into her cheeks and electrified her passionate sex. She'd turned him from a soft man back into a hard one. She'd seen what she'd done to him before she'd got off the floor. His pleasure in her obedience excited her.

The second stroke seared a line in the middle of her bare cheeks. Her sex swooped in and devoured the pain. She'd lied. It was her right, but it must never come for free.

"Harder," she cried.

He kept the cane in the middle of her bum, but flexed the stroke with a forceful flick of the wrist.

The cane delivered her wish as it burned merciless sting across her softness. She appreciated his strokes. He wouldn't allow her to get away with stuff.

"You've lied to me. These last two will hurt. I will never punish you again for this lie. You may keep it. But know from these two strokes, the price you must pay."

Her heart pounded with pleasure at his innate dominance. The cane thrashed her bare cheeks with merciless strength. Her sex swallowed the agony before her mind had to acknowledge it. She kept her hands on the seat of the couch and let it burn through her, panting hard for a full minute as the sting burned to its peak.

When she was quiet, he delivered the last stroke. It flexed across her cheeks, scorching fiery punishment into her skin, leaving behind his firm mark on her bare bottom.

Driven by her throbbing bottom and honest mind, her sex was in furious heat. She stood, looked at him straight and said, "Thank you. Bed. Ravage me."

Before he could react, she was off down the corridor to the bedroom, her bare caned cheeks ahead of him, her black tee already over her head.

He kicked his sleep pants to the floor and followed her to their bed, his black trunks constraining his manhood.

She lay back on the white Egyptian cotton in only her white Calvin Klein string, her punished bare cheeks caressed by the soft sheets, and plunged her hand into her panties, rubbing her clit.

"You caned me hard for lying, and I paid the price."

He jumped onto the bed beside her, slid his hand in her panties and took control of her clit.

"You lied," he said, as his firm finger ruled her pleasure.

She came hard on his finger. His strict voice sent orgasms plunging down her core, and she cried out in joy as pleasure burst in her body.

He rolled on top of her and kissed her, playing with her tongue, like they'd played with their conversation, her's daring him, before making its nimble escape again.

He reached down and shoved off his shorts, freeing his manhood.

She felt her cotton pushed aside by his finger. His hardness entered her. She gripped every inch of him as he consumed her. Her punished bottom grazed the sheets as each thrust delivered further punishment to her sore backside and stunning pleasure to her obedient sex. His thrusts drove her up the bed. A pile of pillows cushioned her head as he plowed his need deep into her.

She gripped his bare bum, drawing him harder into her, demanding more pleasure. Close to the edge of her reality, she kept herself in exquisite desperation until he exploded his dominance with a mighty thrust, gripping her shoulders to keep her in place on the bed.

Being held in place for his pleasure launched hers. Orgasms crushed her control, smashing resistance as they thrust themselves through her body. She twisted, with him inside her, drawing the last drop of blissful satisfaction from every pass of pleasure.

When they lay exhausted, both smiling, she said, "Thanks for not letting me get away with it."

"I'm so glad you didn't answer the question. I didn't want you to."

"It's a girl's prerogative."

"So how many men do you - want - to sleep with?" he asked.

"Only you."

His phone ripped her awake before him, but only by a second. He was already fumbling with it on the bedside table by the time she rolled over. A quick glance at her quiet phone revealed it was 3.30am. Their phones never rang in the night. His hushed tones were calming to her and whoever was on the other end.

"I'm on my way," he said, ending the call.

He climbed out of bed and grabbed his jeans from the chair in the corner.

While he was stepping into them, he said, "That was Imogen. I have to pick her up. There's been a fire in her apartment block. They've turfed her out in the middle of the night with no car keys, no purse and no phone. She can't even go to a hotel."

"Why did she call you?" She didn't like how whiny her voice sounded.

"Because mine was the only number she could remember and she knew she could rely on me."

"Of course," she said, forcing herself to be fair. He was her man, but at this moment, he must rescue another girl. That's what good men did, and he was a good man.

Nick swiped the keys to his BMW M5 from the shelf and the door closed behind him, leaving her to prepare the spare room.

After plumping the comforter on the bed, she put out fresh towels and closed the curtains. In the kitchen, she laid out the makings of toasted cheese. A toasted cheese could improve stress, cold, and even a fire in the middle of the night.

Flicking on the coffee machine to make a fresh jug, she went and changed into jeans and a blouse. She hadn't planned on meeting anyone, but neither had Imogen. Thinking about the enormity of Imogen's plight, she went and found some soft clothes, not knowing her sizes, and laid them on the chair in the guest room.

In a dressing gown and not much else, Imogen looked a very sorry state. Amelia's heart went out to her. Being bereft of everything without warning was scary. She showed her to the bedroom, pointed out the clothes on the chair and invited her to enjoy the en-suite.

When Imogen returned in a better state, her gratitude for a single toasted cheese was sobering. Amelia showed the same grace she'd have expected if their situations had been reversed.

Grateful for the warm clothes, Imogen smiled at Nick's kind girlfriend. To find him with someone made her so happy. She'd despaired he'd find anyone he could trust. It hadn't been her, or it hadn't been then. It didn't matter which now.

Amelia studied Imogen as she made a second round of toasted cheese in the grill. She could see how she'd attracted Nick. She was beautiful. Her long blond hair, now damp and fresh, framed a cute face, but her beauty came with immense manners and it was this which drew her in. "Stay as long as you need to," she said, surprised to find she meant it.

"Thank you," Imogen said. "You're very kind. This is sort of weird, and you're being very gracious. I'm sorry I couldn't call anyone else."

"Even under the circumstances," Amelia said, "it's nice to meet you."