« Spanking Stories

"Shit," Rebecca said, losing count of her rejection emails. Her empty studio apartment mocked her voice. With a decent salary, she'd set her heart on that job.

She couldn't afford her studio next month, moving home her harsh reality. Disaster wasn't staring her in the face, it was touching her nose. Her heart denied her sorrow, talking her back to the top of her game.

Granting herself five minutes, she flicked her phone screen, searching for her mojo, and tapped the attractive 'V' icon. Discovering only five members when Miss Roberts had invited her, she hadn't returned since. She couldn't afford her discipline regime or friends.

Curling up on her couch, she browsed Virtue members. Several personal assistants had joined alongside her. Glancing at a gorgeous brunette, the company name jolted her upright. Two days ago, she'd applied for PA to the Chief Operating Officer.

Staring at her fateful brunette Angel, she read her details. Clare was PA to the CEO. Her wry one-liner induced a rare smile - 'At the top of my game with a little help'.  

Would Clare offer her help? Adjourning to her bathroom, she pondered her unexpected connection. She had nothing to lose except everything. Great personal assistants networked. Washing her hands, she returned to her phone. Confidence powering her slender fingers, she tapped the powerful blue button - 'Join Forces with Clare'.

Ignoring her iPhone, Clare listened to their global sales conference call. Mark preferred her to keep abreast of sales for him. Waiting for an international country manager to reach his point, she flicked open her Virtue message notification. Maybe Jenny was canceling tonight. She didn't know Rebecca. Putting her phone aside, she focused on the sales call.

Forty minutes later, she read Rebecca's message.

Clare admired Rebecca's elegant, unambiguous chutzpah. She'd have written an identical message. Unable to call this afternoon, she was meeting Jenny, Jessica, and Anya tonight. Inspiration powering her, she smiled and hit reply.

Rebecca's reply confirmed her initial judgement. She said 'I prefer brutal.'

Jenny walked into The Winery. Blue glass covered an entire wall, refrigerating white wines from two thousand vineyards. Red wines, shielded by clear glass, filled the opposite wall. Grabbing a high white wine bottle, the famous robot arm swept over customers' heads, setting the dark green bottle on the modern pine bar.

Following the wine bottle, she hunted for Clare using her Virtue photo. Spotting a viable candidate, she approached a high table with a single girl sat waiting. Her phone vibrated. Swiping the notification, Clare's photo appeared. Text unfolded below. 'You're in the presence of an Angel'.

Among a boisterous evening crowd, Clare's phone vibrated on the high, pale pine table. Jenny's photo filled her screen, announcing, 'You're in the presence of an Angel'. Meeting the redhead's gaze, she laughed. "I'm not an Angel."

"I have proof!" Jenny grinned, presenting her phone screen.

Sliding off her stool, Clare gave Jenny a kiss on her cheek. "Nice to meet you."

Delighted, Jenny returned the warm gesture.

"I've begun a fine white Burgundy," Clare gestured to the green bottle on their table.

"Ooh, lovely." Jenny took one of the four glasses, sliding it towards Clare.

Clare poured. "I know you're a florist. You have a store, I presume?"

"Several," Jenny replied, "I own Arkwright's. I'm Jenny Arkwright."

"Your flowers are amazing. My boyfriend, Mark, goes to you."

"I'm glad to hear it," Jenny smiled. "I know you're a senior PA at FMI."

"My profile produced a fascinating development. We're expecting Rebecca. She contacted me on Virtue this morning. She's applied for a PA role at my company. I invited her to join us to judge her."

"Interesting. Virtue suggests excellence. What if she is below standard?"

"I'll tell her she doesn't fit our culture."

"Hard to hear."

"Beats leading her on."

"True." Jenny nodded.

Grabbing a glass from their collection, Jessica sat opposite, pouring her own wine. "Hi, I'm Jessica." She extended her hand to Jenny.

Anya arrived as they were discussing the fresh flower supply chain. Pouring her wine, she didn't stand on ceremony. "One extra glass?"

Clare explained. Judging Rebecca excited Anya and Jessica.

"Kindness, please," Clare cautioned. "Job hunting isn't fun." She'd discerned subtle desperation in Rebecca's simple message. Whatever she said, her elite interview panel would challenge Rebecca.

"Your friendships predate Virtue?" Jenny asked.

Jessica explained their long-standing relationships, her concentration disturbed by sexy, swaying jeans. Recognizing stylish Gucci, she paused. The jeans approached Clare.

"Excuse me, are you Clare?"

"Rebecca?" Clare asked. Her phone gave its familiar answer.

Rebecca grinned. "Some days I'm an Angel."

Shaking hands, Rebecca circled the table, taking an empty stool opposite Clare.

Clare lifted the wine bottle. "Oh, it's empty."

"I'll fix it," Anya offered. "Same again?"

Everyone responded in agreement.

"I'm sorry," Clare said to Rebecca. "Terrible manners."

Rebecca smiled. "We all know how to fix terrible manners."

Clare laughed. Jenny too. Jessica leaned towards Rebecca, offering her hand. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Jessica."

Anya returned. Filling Rebecca's glass, she introduced herself. "Isn't it funny, we all get our bottoms punished?"

Smiles erupted around their table. Jessica said, "I'm proud of it. I need it."  

Jenny said. "Last week I saw Miss Roberts. I'd overpriced my roses. I'm a florist," she told Rebecca. "Unsold, they turned brown. I'd bulk bought at auction. We bid daily."

"What did you choose?" Anya asked.

"Pink roses," Jenny replied.

"No," Anya laughed, "what punishment?"

"Oh, sorry," Jenny grinned. "I made an identical mistake a year ago. She gave me six strokes of her thick punishment cane. I've been sharp ever since," she beamed. God, it felt fantastic to admit she'd received a sound caning to girls who appreciated its benefits.

They recounted stories, their intimate conversation discreet in the loud bar. Pleasant embarrassment accompanied rich admissions of guilt. Admitting their strict discipline, surrounded by mutual acceptance, boosted every heart.

Rebecca's tale captivated them all. "I got paddled, my red butt seen by thousands." Her sex tightened, her mind sliding backwards to her college cheerleading drama.

Entering her cheer squad changing room, chaotic chatter engulfed Rebecca. In various states of undress, girls changed into their cheer uniform. Tight-knit, their trust in each other powered complex, choreographed routines.

Stripping from her jeans and yellow tee, she swapped her yellow bikini panties for crisp white ones. Slipping them on thrilled her. Snapping the white elastic around her hips, she oozed sexiness, standing among her teammates. Her joy short-lived, she pulled on her tiny white flared skirt and tight red crop top.

Their coach entered. Feared and respected, she'd taken them into the Championship Final last year. Losing had hurt. However, their revolutionary routines led the field.

Holding up a clear glass vodka bottle, half empty, she asked, "Whose vodka is this?"

Silence blanketed them. Nobody caught anyone's gaze. They all knew. Months earlier, Coach had paddled Lena for drinking vodka. She'd get dismissed. Lena was strong. Nobody wished to lose their vital team member.

"Step forward or I'll paddle you all."

Always ready to showcase routines, their uniformed coach crossed to her wooden locker, withdrawing her huge paddle. Heavy, polished pine, they'd all felt its harsh effects.

Lena raised her head, lifting her toe off the floor. Rebecca feared their future. Taking her fall, their bold teammate would save their butts, leaving them bereft of her lifting power. Rebecca liked her, despite her many flaws. Mean when she'd joined the squad, her powerful teammate couldn't stand anybody who couldn't hack their intense pace and never-ending practice.

Glancing sideways at Lena, Rebecca stepped forward. "It's mine, Miss."

A collective intake of breath met her admission. Her teammates knew she'd lied. Thousands of spectators would see her paddled red butt. Bending, she'd reveal her shameful punishment to the full stadium.

"You've disappointed me, Rebecca. Grab your ankles."

She bent forward, grabbing her ankles, their punishment routine familiar. Her skirt didn't cover her white panties. Coach flipped it up.

"Drinking spoils your performance. It's prohibited. You aren't twenty-one."

The pine paddle slammed into her panties. Heat exploded across her exposed butt. Paddled before, Coach's disappointment delivered devastating swats. Rocking on her feet, she grasped her ankles, shocking heat driving deep pain into her posterior.

Innocent, her suffering was hard to handle. She plunged into her memory, desperate for a transgression, crime or infraction. Two minutes late for practice yesterday, she'd dodged a paddling. Focusing on her guilt, fire shot through her firm cheeks, thrusting agonizing ache into her disobedient bottom.

Seeing her teammates' feet behind her, she strengthened her grip. She was doing this for them. They needed Lena. Her agony built, exploding fierce pain across her paddled cheeks, each swat burning her skin, their cumulative heat powering her blazing inferno.

Thunderclaps advertised her shame, reverberating off the white concrete walls. She transferred her guilt to her deception. She'd lied about the vodka bottle. It wasn't hers. Scolding herself, she admitted she'd shown poor judgement. Their college held cheerleaders to a high standard. Harsh heat blistered her butt, her private scolding easing her agony.

"Stand, Rebecca," Coach instructed.

Obeying, she faced her squad, her butt in absolute agony. "Sorry, Miss. I won't drink again."

"I hope your paddled butt embarrasses you on the field today. You deserve it. I expect precision from you or you'll grab your ankles again after the match."

"Yes, miss. I deserve it. I'm sorry." Paddled hard in her teammates' presence, shame came easy.

"Did people see?" Jenny asked, twirling her wineglass stem.

Rebecca nodded, her face flushed by her re-telling. Avid attention proved her story had gripped her audience. "I stood proud, my sore butt seen by thousands. At least I'd saved my squad. Fans yelled comments. I ignored them, fixating on my routines."

Captivated, Clare said, "I hope Lena was grateful"

"She was intense. Afterwards, I got a mega team hug. Tight as hell, we won the Championship Final four months later."

"Does remembering your public shame make you feel sexy?" Clare asked.

"Hell, yes," Rebecca said, her sex dripping pleasure into her tight panties.

As they were breaking up, Clare took Rebecca aside. "I can't guarantee I can swing your job. But I'll try my best."

"Thank you, Clare. I appreciate it more than you know."

Leaning against the wall inside her studio apartment, Rebecca unsnapped her tight Gucci jeans. She'd called it right. Clare had said jeans and heels. Her Gucci jeans suited girls at the top.

She hadn't felt sexy in months. Telling her cheerleading tale, she'd squeezed her legs, pleasure pulsing in her sex. Shoving her jeans down, she thrust her hand into her white cotton string bikini panties.

Desperate for her finger, her grateful clit soared her sexiness, her memory grabbing her ankles before her adoring teammates. In her cheer uniform, she imagined herself in The Winery, bending over in front of her new friends for her paddling. Doing her cheer routines on the bar, everyone watched her paddled red butt and crisp white cotton panties. She came hard, waves of furious passion pulsing from her soul. Shuddering down her wall, she landed on her unblemished butt, orgasms pouring from her.

God, she hoped Clare came through for her.

Mark scowled at his screen. His calendar showed another PA interview. With his COO abroad, executive interviews had fallen to him. HR's prior candidates lacked that magical edge. At the top of his company, executive assistants should provide legendary help, Clare his gold standard.

He offered Rebecca an armchair. He hoped this interview, added to his schedule this morning, might spark his enthusiasm.

On the other side of the glass wall, Clare crossed her fingers. When HR had brought Rebecca past her office, they'd exchanged a brief glance. She liked the gutsy girl. Jessica and Anya had expressed their approval. Jenny had chimed in her agreement. They'd repeat their spirited evening if Rebecca succeeded. She'd survived twenty minutes.

Glancing through the glass wall, Mark's body language told her he liked Rebecca. Keeping her counsel, she'd called HR early this morning, endorsing Rebecca. It was obvious her word carried weight. With one weapon remaining in her arsenal, she stood.

When Clare entered, Mark had decided.

Admiring Rebecca's sharp navy skirt suit, Clare produced a professional smile. Moving beside Mark, she bent and whispered in his ear, "She's an Angel."

Clare stepped aside as Mark rose.

Rebecca stood. She couldn't discern Mark's opinion. She'd been her usual self, her confidence boosted by last night.

Mark extended his hand. "It was nice to meet you, Rebecca."

She shook it, clear her interview was over.

Holding her gaze, he observed the inner strength he recognized. "Clare, please escort Rebecca back to HR."

Together, the girls moved towards the door.

Looking up, he said, "Rebecca."

Pausing, they both turned.

He looked her dead in the eye. "You're hired."