« Spanking Stories

Charlotte slid her finger along the timeline of her wedding video, landing it on 19 minutes 11 seconds. On the dark wood coffee table, she shifted the iPad and blipped the play button to check the speakers were working. Connected by bluetooth, invisible panels in the walls and ceiling of her classical Georgian townhouse spread the sound in perfect balance to every corner of the lounge.

She looked up as David arrived. She'd told him over dinner what she wanted. Tall, clean cut and in navy slacks, he was the confident man who'd swept her off her feet. She'd moved into his townhouse over two years ago, two weeks after their first date, and married him a year later.

At twenty-three, getting her vows flawless had obsessed her for weeks before their wedding. She'd grown up with strict discipline and exceptional etiquette and expected nothing but perfection from herself as she stood before everyone and committed to David. Her perfect performance still thrust deep pleasure through her every time she replayed it.

David smiled, settled into the couch beside her, and asked, "Do you need a reminder?"

She swept back her ash blonde shoulder length hair and nodded. It had been a frustrating day. She'd spent the afternoon at a charity board meeting for Girl Plan. At twenty-four, she was far younger than the tweed, twin-set ladies who dominated the meetings. They listened to her points of view, but soon swept them aside. Today had been no different, her ineffectiveness a constant frustration.

Girl Plan empowered girls to raise their aspirations. The charity offered apprenticeships with companies in hundreds of fields to give teenage girls a taste of different careers, but the management were out of touch. Apprenticeships in accounting were fine, but what about social media managers, music management or TV? Her three days a week teaching older girls to mentor younger members gave her a unique insight into being a teenager. It hadn't been long since she'd been one.

Her dark skinny jeans stretched as she leaned forward and tapped the play button in the middle of the screen. Her voice filled the room, her diction flawless, her pitch clear and true as she delivered her vow.

'Love, Honor and' There it was. The pause. All of two seconds but a lifetime of emphasis on the final word, 'Obey.'

She hit pause, reset the video and played it again. As her heartfelt 'Obey' filled the room, she paused the video.

"Do you want to practice?" David asked.

"Yes please."

When she'd been practicing the subtle timing of her vows, she'd done it bent over this coffee table in her panties. As she'd said 'Love' out loud, he'd touched the cane against her bottom. For 'Honor' he'd kept the rhythm the same. In the gap before the ultimate word, he'd pulled it back and delivered a stinging cut, right as she'd uttered 'Obey'.

Her strict obedience meant everything to her. Growing up, she'd learned exceptional etiquette enforced with the cane. Good manners established reliable lines of communication, the bedrock of any friendship. When someone smiled at her manners, it motivated her. The pleasure her manners gave to others thrilled her. Any failure upset her. When David's firm hand had brought them together, she'd realized what had been missing from her life since her early career had ended.

As a teenager, the producers had cast her as the oldest sister, Shannon, in the family drama The Taylors. A wild character so unlike the real her, the conflict had often got her into trouble. After four years, she'd got out. Life away from the false spotlight was full of potential. Eighteen and free from commitments for the first time, her parents had taken her on a ninety day adventure through dozens of countries, awakening her heart and soul. She'd amassed substantial earnings. Well invested, they'd left her in a powerful position. She'd chosen to give back. Her presence on the board of Girl Plan attracted more members, but her heart wasn't being fulfilled.

"Ready?" David asked.

"Yes."

During the afternoon her frustration had built. With no outlet, it would boil over at the wrong time. She'd come home to David determined to bend and obey.

At nineteen, her father had caned her for the last time. The hard punishment had closed off her teenage years, leaving her responsible for herself. When strict discipline had come up during her first date with David, she'd been stunned to find how much she'd missed it. If she hadn't gone for coffee, been careless and knocked into David, she might never have figured out what she'd been searching for.

David got up and retrieved the cane from the top of the bookcase. They kept one upstairs and one down. The golden rattan, held in his hand, sent shivers down her spine. It would hurt her, and it must. She'd be sore for a day, but the painful reminder would kill her frustration and do her good.

Whenever frustration built, she returned to her vows. It defused her tension. They'd never argued. It was a matter of personal pride. She accepted responsibility for the slightest misbehavior and took her punishment with pride. Her parents had thrashed ultra high standards of etiquette into her, and she loved the girl she'd become.

"Strip to your panties," he commanded.

Unbuttoning her white blouse, she removed her plain white bra, laid both over the arm of a chair, unsnapped her jeans and pushed them to her ankles. His gaze hardened her nipples as she sat to remove her jeans. Her sex tightened in pleasure at being made to undress in front of him. In plain white cotton bikini panties, she stood and faced him.

He'd felt her tension over dinner, when she'd explained her agonizing afternoon. Her suggestion of watching her wedding vow hadn't surprised him. "You're a good girl, Charlotte, but you need caning."

She bowed her head and focused on the gray and white flora patterned rug. The cane would hurt, but not as much as blowing her top might have. She'd said nothing unacceptable, her angst had been internal, but she wasn't proud of herself.

With the tip of the cane, he pointed at the coffee table. "Bend over."

She bent forward and placed her hands flat on the hard wood surface, resting all her weight on them and straightening her legs.

The cane tapped against her taut cotton and hovered nearby.

"When you're ready," he said.

She could choose how many strokes she deserved, but never knew her decision in advance.

In a loud voice, she said, "Love." The cane tapped her tight cotton. With its rhythmic return, she said "Honor and". Her firm 'Obey' drowned out the whistle and crack of the cane. Fire seared her panty-clad bottom. Heat stung her behind as furious fire sizzled across her skin. But she didn't react.

Maintaining the dignity and grace she'd shown when she'd delivered her vow in public, she began again. Her voice filled the room. As she landed with flawless timing on 'Obey', fearsome pain bit right through her panties. She maintained her dignity and grace as intense heat disciplined her. She'd been antsy during the board meeting. Not enough to earn punishment, but not ignorable.

Breathing in, she assimilated the pain deep in her behind and repeated her vow. For the third time, the cane whipped into her soft flesh, branding a heavy mark of sincere shame. As the pain escalated to its peak, she panted hard. There would be another day. She would be a voice of change for girls in the world. It just hadn't been this afternoon.

"Thank you," she breathed, her mind calm.

"You may stand up," he said.

She stood and turned to face him, her backside burning. "Thank you for caning me."

"You took it well. Do you feel better?"

"Yes," she said, looking up at him.

His arms wrapped around her. "Your timing was flawless."

Her practice technique had worked. She'd given a flawless performance and had the video to prove it. Nobody would ever know she'd been slick with moisture in her wedding panties, the hardest stroke of the cane in mind as she'd promised to obey.

"Take me to bed," she whispered.

He swept her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs. She nestled into him, letting the harsh sting do its job. His manhandling of her thrust molten pleasure into her sex.

"Thanks for not letting me off," she said.

"When a girl deserves the cane, it should be the worst."

"That's one reason I married you. I trust you to be hard and fair."

"I'm glad it's only one reason."

"You're also handsome, wealthy and kind."

"Is that all?"

"And good in bed."

"Let's check that last one," he said, laying her on the crisp white five-hundred thread count comforter.

Intense heat spread from her sex, suffusing her body with tingling pleasure. She slid her hand into her white cotton panties and teased herself as she watched him undress. His brawny legs promised power and strength as he bared his strapping chest. In only short white trunks, his manhood pressed to reach her.

She circled herself harder. Trapped against the sheet, her bottom burned. She was a good girl who deserved pleasure. He climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside her. His firm fingers slipped under her panty elastic. She lifted her hips as he swept them down her legs.

She kicked the white cotton from her ankle as he lifted over her and entered her. Her sex held onto his hardness as he drove deep inside her. His manhood plunged through her while he tormented her nipples with one hand. She lifted her breasts, desperate to feel the fierce touch of his fingers. Crackles of pleasure ripped down her body and plunged into her sex.

"I took my strokes," she panted, thrilled by his command of her.

"You needed to be caned."

"It hurts like hell," she gasped, holding herself on the exquisite edge of her control.

"Good. It should."

Her slick sex couldn't contain her desire. Orgasms exploded deep inside her and rippled to the surface, forcing pleasure through her sex as he detonated deep inside her. She flung her legs tight around him, driving him into waves of blissful passion as her orgasms consumed her.

He lay back beside her and held her outstretched hand. When her breathing had calmed, he said, "Roll over."

She obeyed. Her heart pulsed as he drew his fingers over each of the three hard ridges he'd scored on her firm flesh. She winced as fresh pain danced on the surface of her skin. She wanted his hard authority stamped on her when she needed it.

Turning her head on the pillow, she said, "Thank you."

"Those women on the board are unimaginative," he said. "You'll figure out how to change things. You won over the nation in their armchairs for four years, a group of out-dated women won't defeat you."

She grinned at him. "None of them will have gone home tonight and asked their man to give them a sharp reminder to behave. I'm having lunch with Amelia next week. I might ask her for ideas."

Her childhood friend had stayed true to her through her fame and the years that had followed. Brought up alongside each other, Amelia had become wild over recent years. Maybe a bit of wild was just the inspiration she needed to figure a new direction for Girl Plan. Even if she got the perfect idea, getting it through the phalanx of battle-axes might still be impossible.

She rolled onto her back and enjoyed her soreness. She was strong and smart, with time on her side. Maybe she'd build something better.

"You're having ideas, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure. Vague ones. Maybe."

"If I tickled you, would you tell me?"

"No," she said, scuttling away from him with a grin.

"If I whipped you and ordered you to tell me, would you?"

"Yes," she said. "But please don't, I vowed to obey you."