« Spanking Stories

Clare lay on her couch, savoring her favorite sexy spanking story on her iPhone. Her black skinny jeans around her thighs, her hand stretched her hot-pink string bikini panties, her finger rubbing her clit. Mark had left this afternoon for three days at one of their international offices, the Davenport deal signed.

She imagined her protagonist's position; bent over her vice-principal's huge, foreboding desk, guilty of smoking in school. Her nipples rock-hard against her hot-pink bra, tension built in her legs. Her vice-principal's strict scolding thundered through her, his well-gripped paddle promising extraordinary pain. Humble, she offered her imaginary skimpy denim shorts for the severe swats she deserved, remaining still through her unbearable suffering.

Peak pleasure touched her fingertip as her story vanished from her screen, replaced by Jessica's picture, her melodic ringtone announcing her friend's call. Unable to abort, she came hard, thrusting furious orgasms at her finger, her phone pulsing Jessica's demanding photo. Seconds before it dropped, she stabbed the green button, accepting her friend's call. "Hi babe," she said, her voice weakening.

She crossed her legs as waves of pleasure engulfed her throbbing sex. Orgasms rippled at random as their call began. She hoped Jessica wouldn't notice.

"Oh, Clare. Thank god. I need help. You're the only friend I could call."

Her friend breathless in her ear, Clare said, "Talk. I'm here." Grabbing a tissue, she sat upright.

"I'm stuck. Trains aren't running because a tree fell. Taxis went hours ago, Uber's saying two hours. Can you give me a lift?"

"Of course. Where are you?"

"Outside the train station," Jessica said, in hushed tones, "near Miss Roberts."

"Oh, sweetie. I understand. I'm coming. Hold tight. I'll be thirty minutes."

Washing her hands in her downstairs cloakroom, she fastened her jeans, running her hands over her paddled butt. Her thrashed bottom ached. She loved Mark. She'd told him. He loved her. Their passion had overflowed, leaving her in peaceful joy, ready to help her friend in need.

Slipping into her Dolce & Gabbana black leather jacket, she traced the butter soft leather of her sleeve. Skipping her car keys, she chose his Mercedes. Jessica might appreciate some comfort. Twenty-two minutes later, she pulled up outside the suburban train station.

Sliding her blazing bottom onto the cream leather passenger seat, Jessica said, "Thank you."

Clare smiled, pulling into the fast traffic flow. "I'm pleased you called me. How bad was your punishment?"

"Miss Roberts gave me a 'Serious'."

Clare sucked in her breath. Her friend had six fresh cane welts on her bottom plus two excruciating welts burning her thighs. Glancing at Jessica's short black pencil skirt, she activated her friend's ventilated seat on its highest level of cooling.

Beneath Jessica's half-bare legs, chilled air circulated through perforations. Reversible fans whirred, drawing heat away from her caned thighs.

Jessica grinned. "Oh my god, that's pure genius. I need to remove my skirt."

Clare smiled. She'd always loved Jessica. Their fresh connection promised a richer depth to their fantastic lifetime friendship.

Unzipping her Hugo Boss skirt, Jessica raised her hips, sliding it off. Folding her suit coat and skirt in her lap, she relaxed in her white blouse and white cotton bikini panties. Spinning her short blonde hair as she swiveled in her seat, she said, "Thank you for rescuing me. Did I disturb your evening?"

Remembering her raging pleasure session on her couch, Clare said, "I was free. Mark's abroad. Stay over. We're due our huge chat."

Jessica beamed. "I could murder a pizza. I'll show you my caned bottom."

Clare smiled. Her sex twitched. The idea of also baring her bottom delivered a shower of delicious shame and honest humiliation.

Showing Jessica to their guest suite, Clare imagined her friend would appreciate privacy after her caning. Closing her own bedroom door, she shoved her black jeans to her thighs. Leaning against the white wall, hot-pink elastic grazed her hand as she caressed her desperate clit.

Parking beneath her penthouse, she'd glimpsed Jessica's vivid red welts edging from her white panties, as her friend re-dressed. The tough ones on her friend's bare legs had clenched her respectful sex.

She imagined her friend bent over Miss Roberts' desk in her tight, white panties. Jessica's disobedience became her own. She had to bend, letting Miss Roberts etch hard, punishing ridges on her delicate thighs. She stayed still while the rattan rod burned fire into her disobedient, panty-clad bottom. It thrashed vicious heat into her soft thighs for her misbehavior. The deserved pain brought orgasms crashing through her sex. She shuddered down the wall, landing on her sore, paddled butt.

Respect for her brave friend overcame her. Those obvious welts proved Jessica had undergone a serious caning. However experienced you were, a good caning hurt.

Pulling up her jeans, she went downstairs, ordered pepperoni pizza for herself, ham and pineapple for Jessica. Twenty minutes later, her friend appeared in her white cotton bikini panties and a borrowed white tee.

Passing Jessica a bottle of mineral water, they headed for the couches.

"Do you visit Miss Roberts often?" Clare asked.

"I need her tough love most months. Once, she caned me for four consecutive weeks. Constant and crazy expensive, it was cruel suffering I deserved. When I'm less ashamed, I'll tell you about it."

"I visit her most months. I'd imagined I'd go less often, living with Mark."

"Does he punish you?" Jessica asked.

Trapped by her friend's sharp legal mind, she nodded.

"I imagine it's impossible to hide Miss Roberts' painful marks," Jessica said, proud her fresh marks were bursting from her sharp-cut white panties.

Jealous of her friend's display, Clare said, "He punished me last night."

Sitting and standing, she removed her black skinny jeans, joining her friend in her hot-pink panties and matching tee. Standing for inspection, she showed Jessica her punished behind, drowning in delicious humiliation.

"Pull your panties down," Jessica demanded.

Tiny shivers raced down her spine as she thrust her pink panties to her thighs, baring her bottom on her friend's command.

Admiring deep bruises on her friend's cheeks, Jessica asked, "Wow, what caused that?"

"A college paddle with enormous holes in it."

"He paddled you hard. How big was it?"

"Hang on..." Pulling her panties up, Clare ran upstairs, retrieved the paddle from their discipline cupboard, and brought it for Jessica's scrutiny.

Weighing the gigantic oak, Jessica asked, "On your jeans?"

Clare shook her head. "He bared my bottom." Her proud admission thrust damp pleasure into her panties. Her boyfriend had paddled her hard. "It needed to hurt."

"Why did you deserve it?"

"My attitude was crap. My period's due. We hosted a crucial private business dinner. He couldn't risk my poor attitude. He bent me over our bed for our short, leather discipline strap before our guests arrived." She couldn't suppress the intense pride in her voice.

"Did you brighten up?"

"My stinging bottom drove me to be brilliant." She grinned.

Jessica turned over the paddle. "But he also paddled you?"

"After strapping me, he promised to paddle me later. After our guests went, he paddled me for my earlier erratic temperament. He'd been practicing in his head, preparing for the dinner. I'd been irritable and obnoxious all day. I deserved a severe paddling."

"You're an honorable girl," Jessica said as a buzz announced their pizzas had arrived.

Having paid in the app, Clare collected their pizzas in her hot-pink tee and panties. Pizzas secured, she returned, throwing her friend a cheeky grin.

"You naughty girl," Jessica laughed. "I'm demure when I'm sore. I wear white cotton panties to honor my punishment until my marks clear, even if my panties lines show beneath a tight skirt or sexy dress."

"Why?" Clare asked.

"It keeps me honest, obedient and demure. Beneath my yoga pants they show. I enjoy the subtle humiliation as part of my strict experience."

Diving on her pizza, she added, "Being thrashed also makes me starving."

Clare grinned. "We've known each other forever. I'm loving this different side of our friendship. It's exhilarating to sit punished in my panties beside you, knowing you understand and appreciate decent discipline. I respect you. It takes honor, guts and tremendous self-respect to report yourself for a severe caning."

"I've always admired your confidence," Jessica replied, swallowing a mouthful of ham and pineapple. "Now I understand it. Sharing this girl bond makes me feel normal."

"We're healthy, smart girls who hold ourselves to strict account," Clare said. "What caused your 'Serious' tonight? Keep it private, if you'd prefer. I'm nosey, sorry."

"It's okay," Jessica said. "It's humbling to admit I've had my bottom caned. I overlooked a significant clause in a sales contract I drafted for an established client. A rookie first-year mistake, requiring serious sanction. I got a revised version signed, apologized to my client, the other attorney and my boss. My thrashed thighs will prevent pleasurable short skirts. A suitable atonement for my lack of concentration. Tomorrow I'll wear a tight pant suit, guaranteeing my panty lines show if I bend. Knowing I'm suffering suitable humiliation at work will help cleanse my guilt."

"I'm proud of your penance. It fits your unprofessional performance," Clare said.

Her friend's firm tone dripped pure pleasure into Jessica's cotton panties. "It's a year since I've had to endure caned thighs. They're on fire."

"Does it turn you on?" Clare asked.

"Fuck, it does. I masturbated upstairs, hard. I needed pain relief. If I had a boyfriend who paddled my bare bottom, I'd keep his hand busy in my panties."

Clare smiled at Jessica's honesty, taking a deep breath. "You know how my relationship with Mark began."

"You cooked him your famous stir-fry."

"Later, first he caned me, twenty full strokes."

Jessica's eyebrows shot up. "Tell," she demanded, getting comfortable on the couch.

"Staying late, I started on my evening's entertainment. I'd discovered an addictive spanking story online. Desperate for the next chapter, I read four on my work computer. They appeared on the computer usage report I monitor for Mark."

Jessica's hand shot to her mouth. "No!" she gasped. "That's a giant shit-pile of trouble."

Clare nodded. "I'd reported various employees to HR. They record those webpages in your employment file. I'd have lost respect when word leaked. I agonized for an entire day before reporting myself to Mark. He viewed one page. It was embarrassing. I couldn't evade punishment. It would be unethical. Given my reading material, he suggested a severe caning from him, instead."

"No! Your boss? You bold, bad girl," Jessica grinned.

"The next evening he gave me a formal caning in his office. Twelve strokes, bent over his desk, on my panties."

"You said twenty."

"I haven't finished. I stripped to my underwear to show deep respect and humility. He thrashed my almost bare bottom. It was a proper, agonizing caning. Between strokes, he scolded me. His stern voice drove me wild. His last stroke caused me to come hard over his desk. It was unmistakable."

"Oh. My. God," Jessica blurted.

"He held me. He was very kind. I buried my head in his chest. I got it together, faced him, thanked him for caning me and offered to cook him dinner. He kissed me at my apartment, but I couldn't accept it. I'd mocked my formal punishment. I urged him to punish my gross disobedience."

"Six strokes, at least," Jessica suggested.

"He made me touch my toes for six punishment strokes, thanking him as each stroke burned. I neglected to thank him to determine his commitment. It costs me two extras. After hours of shagging, I cooked him stir-fry."

"You minx. You sexy, cool chick. I'm lost for words," Jessica said. "You're clever - you didn't lie to us. You claimed you'd made a mistake, he'd corrected it, and you'd offered to cook dinner as thanks. Wow. I love Mark for caning you."

"Yesterday, he said he loved me. I said it too."

Jessica grinned. "Everyone knows."

"I'd prefer not to tell anyone else our secret," Clare smiled.

"I keep secrets for a living. We have 'Mutual Assured Destruction'. Exposing our secret benefits neither of us."

Clearing their empty pizza cartons and water bottles, Clare grinned. "I'm ready for bed. Our conversation has made me hot."

Parting on the landing, Jessica whispered, "I'm desperate for my hand in my obedient white panties. Thank you for rescuing me. Best girls' night, ever."

Clare swiped her hand, closing her curtains, and tore off her hot-pink tee and bra. Slipping her fingers into her hot-pink string bikini panties, she rested on her bed, pleasuring herself. In her mind, Mark was caning her at work, Jessica witnessing her disgrace.

Bent over Mark's desk, his imaginary forceful strokes powered her pleasure. Her official twelve strokes witnessed, Jessica ordered six extras, unhappy with her less than compliant attitude.

Accepting her friend's tough decision, salvos of rattan strokes stung her imaginary bottom, her friend ordering more and harder. Skimming pleasurable spikes from her pert nipples, she exploded waves of orgasms into her hot-pink panties, twisting into her pleasure as each surge decayed.

Teasing herself with gentle caresses while her body recovered, her mind drifted. Should her friend ever observe her sweet embarrassment for real, she hoped she'd accept her added humiliation with grace and dignity.