« Spanking Stories

« Clare, Jessica and Anya


8. Doing Homework

Spanking Story


A girlfriend clears her conscience bent over her boyfriend's desk before a girls' night out

«Beginning Part 9»

Pausing halfway up their penthouse stairs, Mark watched Clare exit their kitchen, her stunning curves flowing in her comfortable jeans.

"Jessica called. I'm having dinner at Bistro Vin tonight with the girls," she said.

Adopting a stern tone, he commanded, "Do your homework, before you go out."

Inside, he smiled. His strict command would drive her sexy crazy.

His stern voice sent a shiver down her spine, sparking wet heat in her obedient sex. They'd agreed she must complete outstanding homework when he chose. Their strict rules thrilled her. He could instruct her obedience anytime. She couldn't avoid her discipline. Agreeing to dinner when Jessica called, she'd hoped he might order her stinging reminder of his strict authority.

Flushed, she gazed up at him. "Yes, sir. I'll report to the study."

On the main level, their study was where she did her homework. With her list of recent offenses stored in her phone, she loved their manufactured formality.

Pale olive walls drew her eye to distant hills beyond the city limits, mirrored by a magnificent perspective photo of a path through tall grass. Their huge glass desk dominated the working space, two executive chairs behind its square expanse.

She joined the desk on its white carpet. With several hours before her dinner, she tapped their shared note on her phone. The title 'Homework' was apt. If she couldn't receive punishment, one of them noted her offense in 'Homework'. She loved having homework hanging over her.

Putting off ironing for several days, she'd rushed to get a white blouse ironed one morning, noting her unfortunate laziness. A notification had appeared later, 'Homework updated'. Sentenced to twelve smacks of his large rubber-soled gym shoe on her skimpy panties, pride had burst through her fresh blouse.

Exhausted at bedtime last night, he'd added 'Blouse Lie' to her homework. She'd claimed a blouse she'd purchased was on sale. Its exorbitant price had embarrassed her. Hanging it on a chair to admire its cream lace interwoven with colored threads, she'd left the price tag visible.

She could spend her money however she liked. It was her lie he cared about. He'd added her transgression, sentencing her to twenty-four with his leather belt on her panties. She shuddered as she re-read her prescribed punishment. His belt would hurt, but she deserved a belting without mercy for her shameful offense.

Resting her phone on their desk, she stood, her hands by her sides, waiting for him.

"Good girl," he said, entering their study, carrying his worn brown leather belt and his once white gym shoe. Well acquainted with its flexible, rubber sole, her panties were already damp. His firm compliment liquified her expectant sex.

"You're due two punishments. We'll give you a clean slate."

"Thank you," she said.

Her sore bottom would increase her enjoyment this evening, surrounded by friends, her bottom spanked like a young girl. Her special feeling enhanced because Jessica now shared her secret.

"Drop your jeans," he ordered.

Her comfortable blue jeans were old favorites. She undid them, shoving the worn denim to her ankles.

"Smart," he said.

She smiled. He loved her complete coordination. Her bright purple sweater matched purple elastic on her white cotton string bikini panties.

"I'm wearing this tonight with better jeans," she said, proud of her private styling.

Thin purple strings circled her hips in delicious vulnerability. His erection straining his casual black slacks proved he loved her panties. A few stray rays of Saturday afternoon sun bounced off their modern glass desk. She doubted its designers had foreseen its current use.

His stern voice cut through her thoughts. "Bend over."

Placing her palms flat on their desk, white cotton and purple elastic stretched tight across her rear as she assumed her obedient position.

"Laziness requires spanking."

God, she hoped so. Unable to promise she'd avoid laziness, certain punishment guaranteed healthy sorrow and wise reflection.

His large gym shoe pressed into her panties. Moments later it returned, hard. Bright sting burst across her right cheek as his smacks landed fast and firm, expanding her stinging heat. She'd ignored her ironing pile on at least three occasions. She was lazy. Flexing hard against her cheeks, the burning rubber restored her self-respect.

"Lazy negligence hurts. Can you feel how much it hurts?" he asked.

His gym shoe stung worse than she recalled. "Yes. Thank you. I deserve it."

She craved his strict reprimand. Being told she was out of order confirmed her personal diagnosis, adding official judgement, certain pain, and necessary humiliation. His stern words, backed by strict pain, exploded her obedient mind, setting her sex ablaze.

Delivering her next six super hard, he slammed the rubber sole into her clean cotton, punishing her soft flesh with his powerful male strength. Clearing her guilt with deserved sting, her hot cheeks offered fair retribution for her appalling laziness.

"You'll feel that for a few hours."

"Thank you. I'm sorry I was lazy."

"You're forgiven."

His two words cleared her mind, justifying her exposed stinging bottom.

"Next, let's discuss your gorgeous blouse. Why lie?" he asked.

Made to answer for her actions, bent over their desk, removed her veil of privacy. His male force standing over her, beating her, drove respect into her heart.

"It's embarrassing to admit I treat myself to occasional expensive clothes."

He pondered her reply. Her lie had perplexed him. Intending twenty-four strokes from their rattan cane, he'd reduced her sentence to his leather belt, uncertain why she would lie about a mere blouse. Hearing her female response, his instinctive decision pleased him.

"You look awesome in everything," he said. "What did those sexy panties you're wearing cost?"

"Two bucks a pair from Amazon. They're Sexy Basics Panties," she replied. Her panties oozed with sexy simplicity, their value adding to their appeal.

"They're dead sexy. Well displayed, bent over our desk."

His compliment thrilled her. His scolding too. God, her panties were wet.

"Your spending is your business. But your lie will hurt you."

Swamped in shame, her breath misted the glass. "I'm sorry. I need belting."

"Count yourself lucky it's only my belt." He doubled over the brown leather, snapping it tight in his hands.

The snap pulsed honor through her core. She deserved his belt. Her shameless white lie must hurt her. Their homework system ensured it didn't hurt their relationship.

Leather collided with cotton, a sharp crack echoing off the olive walls. Fiery sting ripped across her bottom. Lashing her panty-clad cheeks, he scorched strokes into her deceitful bottom, offering no mercy. His strength and his belt combined to chastise her with furious bands of burning sting.

Her brisk belting built heat in her behind. She pictured her gorgeous blouse. Enduring his furious strokes, she respected the sincere pain they caused. Blasts of fierce burn rammed home his message where it hurt.

"You've earned your clothes, whatever they cost. You'd look gorgeous in a plastic trash bag."

His kind scolding drove her bottom's heat into her demanding sex. "I'm sorry," she panted.

He belted her bare skin where her skimpy panties provided zero protection, repeating strokes to heighten her hurt. Vicious sting ensured she'd sit sore tonight. Her bottom on fire, she'd lost count of her strokes. Two last blasts of brutal heat struck her thin cotton.

"Stand up," he commanded.

Her sex raging with respect, she stood, her hands by her sides, as sting consumed her belted bottom. "Thank you for belting me. I'm sorry I lied."

He kissed her, hard. Her passionate tongue thanked him, her sex pressing against his urgent hardness.

Cradling her in his arms, he broke for breath. "I love belting you," he said. "I adore the sharp snap against your panties. It hurt, didn't it?"

"Fuck, yes. You're strong. It stings bad, but I love you belting me. I love the word, 'belting'. It wraps around my tongue. I often remind myself I've been 'belted' or am due a 'belting'."

"You sexy girl," he said, undressing, releasing his enormous erection.

His hard evidence of his desire thrilled her. She hoisted her sweater over her head, unhooked her white bra, and kicked her jeans from her ankles.

Grabbing her waist, he walked her backwards to their square glass desk, lifting her onto its rounded edge. Gripping her hips, he spread her legs and pressed her down onto the glass surface.

Flat on her back, she gazed at him, her burning bottom reflecting heat off the glass as his manhood forced aside her tight cotton, thrusting deep inside her. Wrapping her legs around him, she drew his hardness deep into her soaking sex, the glass cooling her bum.

He propelled her across their desk, his dominant thrusts confirming their strict relationship. Squeezing his torso, she pulled him inside her, fighting her inevitable loss of control.

Held in position by the man who'd belted her, she couldn't hold back. Her sex demanded he take her. He took her to the verge of climax, held her teetering, and let it dissolve. Grazing her glistening nipples, he forced her to beg.

"Please," she moaned.

"I belted you," he gasped, knowing the word would scream her onto her edge.

The cool glass now fiery hot from her belted cheeks, she panted, "I lied and got belted."

Laid out in her cute panties for his pleasure, she cried, "You belted me for lying. I was deceitful. I got a belting."

Driven to desperation by her own words, she came hard, thrusting her hips into him, twisting to ride her pleasure flow. Orgasms plunged her across their desk. His hands planted her as he exploded his pleasure, the tip of his manhood deep inside her throbbing sex.

"You're beautiful," he said, caressing her cheek and stroking her slim, sweaty curves.

Resplendent on their desk in the fading sunshine, she felt beautiful and lay basking in his pleasure.

Taking her hand, he pulled her up and held her tight, his bare, muscular torso pressed into her breasts. Grabbing his phone from the edge of the desk, he deleted her punishments, presenting her with the empty screen showing her clean slate.

"It won't last," she grinned. "I love doing homework."

Clare gazed at her girlfriends. Brick walls and dark polished floors reflected a comfortable atmosphere in Bistro Vin. Buried in an eclectic cozy corner of the downtown art district, its sleek, home vibe suited them. They'd sent back two bottles of French chardonnay empty. Their fit waiter was pouring the third.

Her curious eye on their charming waiter, Jessica chatted to Anya, a leading human rights lawyer.

During a lull, Anya glanced at Clare. "You're too relaxed. I suspect an afternoon of sensational sex?"

Clare grinned, her facing giving her away. She adored the super fit Indian girl. They'd met at a cycling class where neither of them liked the supercilious instructor.

"Wine, food, and gossip," she replied, raising her glass.

She nudged Jessica, whispering in her ear, "And Mark belted my bottom."

Jessica whispered, "I hope it hurt like hell." Switching straight back to Anya, to cover their secret exchange.

Excusing herself, Clare visited the restroom, locked her stall and wriggled down her blue '7 for All Mankind' skinny jeans. Seated on the lid, she slipped her hand into her sexy panties. Her tight white cotton string bikini panties, edged in purple elastic, reminded her of her afternoon belting. Jessica's words spurred her finger.

'I hope it hurt like hell, ' swam in her brain as her finger circled herself hard. It had hurt like hell. Mark had belted her hard, her deceit requiring it. She imagined Jessica discovering her masturbating. Swallowing an urgent pant, she imagined Anya or Jessica bending her over their restaurant dining table and belting her for public masturbation.

Edging towards climax, she spread her legs. Exploding on her finger, orgasms cascaded through her ecstatic sex, delight in her naughty masturbation merging into her afternoon belting, providing a phenomenal climax.

Doing up her jeans, she left her stall. Washing her hands, she studied her face in the wide wall mirror above her basin. Would her subtle glow betray her pleasure?

She slid her phone from her black shoulder bag, opened her notes app and selected 'Homework.' Her finger hovering over her blank note, she considered her choice. Did she wish to share her shameless public masturbation with Mark? Putting her phone away, she concluded her need was healthy and hurt no one. Some things were still her secret.