« Spanking Stories

« Charlotte, Amelia, Imogen and Takisha


2. Standards

Spanking Story


A young wife gets a bedtime spanking for bad manners

«Beginning Part 3»

"He talked about himself all evening," Amelia exclaimed, coming to the end of her pan roasted Halibut and her tale of woe about last night's date.

Charlotte looked across their table in the middle of Frank's. One of the leather benched booths would have been more discreet, but three steps below street level, Frank's Townhouse was busy at lunchtime.

Pushing aside her empty plate, Charlotte asked, "Was he at least interesting?"

"What do you think?" Amelia said, her voice rising in disgust. "I think he'd rather sleep with himself than me. He was hot, but an ass."

Charlotte burst into hysterics, threw her head back and laughed, "A total ass. He could have had you."

At the table next to them, an older gentleman with a gray beard turned, leaned towards her, and said, "Excuse me ladies, please tone it down."

"I'm sorry," Charlotte said. They tried to keep it safe and light, but hysterics once started were impossible to rein in.

Pouring the rest of the Saint-Emilion Grand Cru Bordeaux into their glasses, Amelia exclaimed, "He was worse than Bill Turner."

"No!" Charlotte exclaimed, trying to smother her voice.

Growing up together, Bill Turner had been their lowest standard. At eighteen, they'd each been on a date with him. Amelia, at first hopeful, then her to see how bad a boy could be.

The same gentleman turned. His movement more than enough to chasten her. She whispered to Amelia, "We must talk about something else."

David had been on the phone discussing an investment all evening. Getting ready for bed, she stripped off her blue jeans and navy blouse, revealing bright red bikini panties and a red lacy bra.

"Nice underwear," he said.

She smiled.

He hung his slacks in the wardrobe. "How was your lunch?"

"Good," she said, her tone betraying the word. She'd hoped not to have to tell him.

He walked towards her. His tight white shorts distracted her, but his firm look demanded more. "Only good?"

She looked up at him, her face reddening under his gaze. "We were a bit too loud."

"How loud?"

"The man at the next table asked us to tone it down."

She looked down at the carpet, shame coursing through her veins.

His fingers lifted her face, demanding he met her gaze. "Did you?"

"Not as much as we should have."

"I see."

"I'm sorry. I used words I shouldn't have."

"Did you swear?"

"No, but I lowered my language to Amelia's level."

He walked around her, inspecting her bright red underwear. "You need caning, Charlotte. Hard."

His damming verdict surrounded her. Her vulgar words deserved discipline, her disturbing behavior only sealed the deal.

"After I've caned you for your crass language, I'll spank your bare bottom in bed for your immature and disruptive behavior. It'll be a lengthy spanking and not at all pleasant."

His announcement made her feel better. She shouldn't have tried to avoid this.

"Do you have anything to say?" he demanded.

"No. I'm sorry. I deserve it."

"Yes, you do."

He reached for the cane in their wardrobe. Despite her familiarity with it, the sight of the flexible punishment stick in his hands still made her shiver. It didn't hurt any less because she'd had it before.

"Bend over and touch your toes," he commanded.

Turning to face the door, she obeyed, bending and reaching for her bare toes. Presenting her bottom high in the air, it hurt to hold the position, but her disobedience demanded it. Her brief red panties had risen as she'd bent, offering a fair portion of bare cheeks for him to mark with disgust.

"Your language does not have to descend to the level of your friend, however beguiling her story."

He was right. She made her own standards. She should have calmed her friend down instead of lowering herself to the same level.

The cane tapped her red cotton, reaching her bare cheeks. The whistle reached her ears as a loud snap resonated around the room. She rammed her fingertips into her toes as vicious pain exploded across her taut skin, escalating as the intense burn burrowed into her cheeks.

The strokes arrived with time to appreciate their full potential. Each harsh impact stole her breath, but she recaptured it and breathed through the pain as it worsened. She repeated the words she'd used in her mind while the cane thrashed their inappropriateness out of her. Two final scorching bands of burn sealed agony into her, right where she'd sit.

"Stand up," he ordered.

She obeyed, the muscle movement amplifying the ferocious burn.

"There'll be no more language like that, will there?"

"No, there won't be. Thank you for punishing me."

"You took it well."

She smiled. His compliment was welcome. Her bottom was sheer agony. The full effect would last most of the night.

"Now we must deal with your boisterous behavior. Your choice of bright red underwear may have set you on the wrong path this morning. You will wear chaste, plain white underwear for the next week. No exceptions, even beneath a cocktail dress. It will remind you to moderate your behavior."

"Thank you," she said.

He might be right about her underwear. Amelia always wore bright things beneath. She'd felt compelled to compete, even if nobody would see. She skimmed off the bright panties and bra, turned to her drawer and slipped into innocent white cotton bikini panties, an appropriate penance.

He was lying on the bed when she turned. Despite her behavior, his tight white trunks showed he still desired her. The heat he'd thrashed into her behind pulsed warmth into her sex. She wanted him to take her, but not until she'd received her spanking.

She climbed onto their bed, pushed the comforter to her feet and lay on her front beside him.

He admired her bottom. Curves of cool white cotton bisected each heated cheek. Six angry red welts emerged from the thin material.

"Well mannered girls do not cause a disturbance in public. Were you a well-mannered girl?"

"No." The admission stung more than her bottom. She'd been anything but well-mannered.

"I have to spank you for your behavior," he said.

"Make it hurt. I'm very sorry."

"Good girl," he said.

His compliment made it easier to take the pain as his hard hand imprinted fierce sting into her soft girl flesh. The pain built as he signed handprints across her bottom.

"When you're told to tone it down, you've already failed."

She imagined the discomfort of the other diners and relaxed her bottom. She was due a severe spanking and welcomed the lesson in volume being applied.

"Did you become peaceful when he asked you?"

"No," she groaned. She was most ashamed of this. Being called on her manners in public was one thing, but failing to take note was heinous.

"Harder," she cried.

His hand rained down hurt on her sensitive flesh, stinging her welts as pain and heat suffused her cheeks. She hoped the older gentleman would approve of her punishment.

He layered hard spanks on her low curves. It would hurt when she sat. She deserved to hurt all week. Her arms folded under the pillow, she interlocked her fingers and willed herself to take it.

It was the longest and hardest spanking she'd ever had from him. The ache spread deep through her behind. She never remembered how much a spanking hurt until it was underway, but with the need to atone flooding her body and mind, she welcomed his hard hand tonight.

Respect for him drove hot liquid pleasure into her sex and her nipples hardened against the sheet.

The sting stopped.

"Roll over," he commanded.

She obeyed, her hardened nipples presented to his gaze.

"Thank you for spanking me," she said. "I deserved it."

He couldn't hide the ferocious strength stretching his white trunks. "You accepted it with good grace. I know it was tough, but you never behave like that in public."

"I'm sorry for everything."

He slid one arm under her shoulders and his fierce hand into her plain white panties.

He circled her hard, wet clit. Her breathing stuttered as pure pleasure pulsed through her pain. Contrite, she permitted herself the relief. Riding her desire, she teased her rock hard nipples as he held her on the brink. She came hard, slicking his hand with her juices as she writhed in his arms, chasing her pleasure as it ebbed away.

"Kneel while I take you," he whispered in her ear.

She rolled over and kneeled, her head on her pillow and her husband behind her. He shoved aside her panties as his manhood thrust into her soaking sex. His solid stomach spanked her sore bottom as he fucked her hard. She gripped his manhood, challenging him to dominate her. Teetering on the edge of ultimate pleasure, she came hard as he exploded deep inside her, demanding her obedience. She squeezed his hardness, keeping him in place as waves of stunning pleasure passed over her, drowning her in utter bliss, love and respect for her hard man.

"You always speak with such eloquence," Kat said, twisting in her red armchair in the comfortable office of Girl Plan. Off the edge of the central room were private rooms filled with armchairs, not desks.

"Thank you," Charlotte said. Her bottom ached where her spanking had penetrated. Her tight miniskirt was uncomfortable. It was just how a punished girl ought to feel.

"Why is everything so boring?" Kat asked. At eighteen, her good looks weren't taking her where she or her parents wanted. She had ideas of stardom, her parents expected her to be a nurse like her mom.

"What would exciting look like?"

As Kat painted a picture of simple success, Charlotte reflected on the failing of Girl Plan to offer any exciting choices.

"You realize most stars don't get days off. They do things like getting up at 4am and working until 10pm at night. You only see the shiny bit."

"I'm not afraid of hard work," Kat spat, "but I don't want a regular job. I want to make a splash in the world, or why am I here?"

Changing the subject, Charlotte said, "How are you getting on with the three girls I gave you to mentor?"

Kat relaxed and sat back. "Their goals aren't high. I can't relate. I want so much more than they do. But the things they're worrying about are dead simple, like you said they would be. One feared failing at a job, and she hasn't even got one yet. Another worried about what her mom would think when she chose a different career."

Charlotte laughed. "I imagine you had that licked."

"And then some. I'm an expert in displeasing my parents."

"How are your acting classes going?"

She'd got Kat into acting classes because the girl hadn't been clear if singing was what she wanted to do.

"It's made things worse," Kat grinned. "Now I can't decide if I want to act or sing. But it has made my singing more passionate. Singing is acting with music."

The first time Kat had proclaimed a desire for stardom, Charlotte had taken the teenager straight to the baby grand piano, among the couches in the central room, to judge her confidence. Throwing her charge in at the deep end, she'd sat down and played the theme song from The Taylors. Known to everyone, its high notes were a serious challenge. To her chagrin, the younger girl had laid her hand on the baby grand, wrapped her tongue around the words and soared through the high notes with flawless diction.

Kat's talent vexed her. There wasn't an apprenticeship for stardom.

Wearing soft black leggings at home and boyfriend jeans when she went out, she'd been extra polite at all times, her plain white panties a constant reminder.

Her cane marks had still been visible in the mirror this morning. He'd branded them hard. She'd spent this morning in her black leggings, cleaning while thinking about Kat's career and how limited Girl Plan was in being able to help her. When the doorbell rang in the late afternoon, she welcomed Amelia with an enormous smile. She needed a break from herself.

"I've been shopping," Amelia said, coming in laden with bags. Her friend was an expert and frequent shopper.

In the lounge, Amelia withdrew a short, white knit-dress with bright pink side panels. "This is a sensation."

She took off her jeans and pink tee, revealing bright pink matching underwear. Shimmying her slim form into the body-con dress, she spun to be admired.

Charlotte grinned. "With more subtle underwear, you'll be a summer hit."

The dress was confidence on legs. She could imagine herself in it, well mannered and still flamboyant.

"Try it on," Amelia said, scrambling out of the dress and handing it to her friend.

Charlotte declined. She'd have liked to, but the marks on her bottom were still clear.

On a high from her successful purchase, Amelia's infectious excitement wouldn't take no for an answer. "You must," she said, pressing the dress against Charlotte's chest.

Charlotte took the dress. If she continued to refuse, her friend would know something was up. She'd slip into it and keep her bottom at bay. She kicked off her black leggings and tee, revealing her plain white bra and panties.

Amelia looked at her. "White panties under black leggings. Your standards are falling, babe."

Concentrating on her friend as she pulled the dress over her head, Charlotte turned. It was only slight, but Amelia whipped around behind her. "You've had the cane."

Pulling the dress down to cover her embarrassment, Charlotte said, "I deserved it."

"Who caned you?"


"When? Why? Tell all."

"It was lunch with you. We disturbed that gentleman and others around us. And, I used language I wouldn't care to hear. It was thoughtless. David asked about our lunch, I told him everything and he punished me. He also demanded I wear chaste white underwear until the end of the week to remind me to behave."

"What had you been wearing?"

"Bright red for our lunch."

Amelia nodded. "We've both had the cane, even together. But David? Do you like it?"

She'd always admired Charlottes flawless manners. Now she knew why. Her own had been taking more of a break than she'd intended. The effect of being punished came rushing back to her.

"Is it like it was growing up?"

"Worse. David is very hard on me. It hurts like hell. But I get a clean slate with him, and with myself. I've always needed it. I wouldn't have it any other way. When were you last punished?" She doubted Amelia would even remember.

"Nineteen, when I came home from university," Amelia said, as her head lowered in shame at the memory. "Mom caned me for lying."

"Did you need it?"

"Yes, more than I realized. I'd let myself down. How does it work? Does David decide? Do you have a choice?"

Proud, Charlotte wanted to talk about the strict regime she'd chosen. "Come round for coffee in the morning and I'll tell you what happened on our first date, the actual truth."