« Spanking Stories

« Clare, Jessica and Anya


12. Good for me

Spanking Story


Three best friends masturbate after sharing their worst punishments

«Beginning Part 13»

"Thank you for fixing Miss Roberts' legal issue," Jessica said to Anya.

Clare filled her coffee table with bowls of hazelnuts, walnuts, and peanuts alongside three different boxes of Godiva chocolates. The low table stretched along her L-shape couch, Jessica curled in the corner.

Encased in her high-waisted sustainable 'nudie jeans', Anya poured herself a generous glass of Chablis and tucked her legs beneath her. "I found her delightful. Easy to talk to."

Clare sank into an armchair. Her super-casual black sweatpants and pale-blue tee proving it was her home, her rules. She studied Anya's relaxed organic white cotton tee and her much discussed natural jeans. Her friend appeared happy.

"Can you explain how you solved it?" Clare asked.

"The girl panicked when her mom saw her marks, inventing a flagrant lie. I persuaded her to support a trivial settlement agreement to satisfy her parents."

"I bet Miss Roberts is glad she's gone," Clare said.

"In fact, I sent her to apologize to Miss Roberts."

Clare said, "I imagine it hurt."

Anya smiled. "The outcome satisfied Miss Roberts."

Jessica tackled her fear. "Telling you our secret was embarrassing. Do you believe we're weird?"

Clare smiled. She appreciated Jessica's direct attack and envied her nerve. In her comfortable black leggings and red vest top, her friend's eyes held Anya's, demanding a response.

Anya gripped her wineglass as silence settled, the ball in her court. Despite her successful law firm, she was a girl needing strict discipline. Keeping her cards close, she said, "I admire you both."

Unimpressed, Clare said. "Spit it out. Are we insane?"

Anya shook her head as her vain hope died. "You suggested my parents may have disciplined me. It wasn't only my classmates who got caned. My parents caned me hard. I always deserved it. I understand your need to feel punished. It ends your guilt."

"We still get it. Are we crazy?" Jessica asked.

"I never imagined someone like Miss Roberts existed. You have incredible guts. I respect you both. I'm honored you revealed your secret to me and proud you asked for my help."

"Thanks for fixing her problem," Jessica said. "We need Miss Roberts."

Anya met Jessica's gaze. She owed complete frankness to her friends and hadn't given it. Without them, she'd never have discovered Miss Roberts.

"Me too," she said. Lobbing her bombshell into their conversation, she watched it explode.

In shocked silence, Clare and Jessica assimilated her revelation.

Anya smiled. "I'm sorry I left you both feeling awkward." She stood. "You've done me a massive favor. I took my payment in kind."

Unbuttoning her nudie jeans, she shoved them down her toned legs, revealing pale pink cotton bikini panties against her almond skin. Turning away, she lowered her panties. Her twelve exposed cane marks thrilled her humble sex, her bottom under her friends' approving gaze.

"Oh babe, that's major." Clare leaped from her chair, hugging Anya. Scrambling from her couch corner, Jessica joined them.

Grinning as they separated, Jessica blurted, "Your services are expensive. She gave you a heavy punishment caning."

"I deserved it," Anya said. Pulling up her panties and jeans, she confessed to her bullying at school.

"I hope it hurts," Jessica said.

"It does," Anya nodded. Her friend's firm but fair words roasted her obedient sex.

"Does getting your punishment turn you on?" Clare asked.

Anya blushed. She couldn't lie to her friends. "Like mad."

"You're in fine company," Clare admitted.

Jessica nodded, "Me too."

The untouched snacks seized their attention. Jessica digested Anya's inclusion in their newfound intimacy. Dark chocolate truffles pinged exotic spices in her half-full mouth. She grinned at Clare. "Where's Mark?"

"Dinner with a buddy. He'll be home tomorrow afternoon."

Grabbing three chocolates, Anya settled in her armchair. "I've shown you my bare bottom. It's your turn. What sent you to Miss Roberts?"

As Clare began, Jessica settled back in her couch corner, picking from a handful of hazelnuts.

"It was my first job as a PA. The founder prepared a wages spreadsheet. I emailed it to a payments company who paid our employees. I slammed my laptop closed, leaving the crucial email in my outbox, unsent."

"Staff didn't get paid!" Anya exclaimed.

Clare nodded. "It got sorted after a weekend of inconvenience. I'd kept Miss Roberts' ad from a free newspaper, tucked beneath my panties. It seemed less expensive. I needed to look myself in the eye, knowing I'd held myself to account. I wished my pain to exceed my ability to cope, forcing me to struggle through substantial, genuine suffering."

Anya nodded. "Did you go?"

Clare smiled. "I visited her. Confessing my lazy stupidity, she sentenced me to six cane strokes. I'd never felt a cane. Coursed with fear, I accepted it, grateful for her condemnation. Stripping to my panties, shame poured off me."

"Did you handle it okay?" Anya asked.

"My first stroke overwhelmed me. That screaming escalation of astounding pain right after impact. Despite intense agony, I stayed still and took my thrashing with dignity. Proud of my bravery, I asked for a memorable last stroke."

"You gutsy girl," Jessica interjected.

"It was only on my bottom, but she caned me hard. Traveling home, my blazing butt thrilled me. Punished, stinging, and forgiven, I was on cloud nine."

"You kept your job?" Anya asked.

"Miss Roberts caned me on the weekend. Monday morning, I apologized to our twenty-five employees, powered by a sore bottom under my suit. I fixed my efficient reputation. Nobody mentioned it again."

Topping up wineglasses, she basked in pride among friends.

"Your turn, Jessica," Anya said.

Jessica shifted forward from her corner. "My toughest punishment lasted a full month."

Her friends' eyebrows shot up

"I became hooked on those hook-up apps. Quick, easy, sex. I experimented, high on my sheer untamed wildness, fucked however I knew by hard bodies I didn't."

Her friends smiled in support.

"I woke to a pretty sunny Sunday feeling filthy, next to no one who knew my name. I kicked him out, deleting my accounts. Craving a stern scolding and harsh lines of strict discipline burned onto my butt, I confessed my entire month of wanton debauchery to Miss Roberts."

"Did she understand?" Anya asked.

Jessica nodded. "She gave me a 'Serious'. My caned legs prevented regression. I yelled. Pure agony ripped out my guilty conscience, leaving impressive hurt."

"I've had a 'Serious'," Clare agreed. "It's embarrassing."

"She kept me embarrassed once a week for a full month," Jessica said. "I bought an extra pack of plain white cotton panties. Six cane strokes on my fresh panties and my caned thighs kept me obedient. She lectured me on my behavior. I adored her lectures as much as her strict punishments. I even avoid sex on first dates."

Clare motioned towards Anya's bottom. "Is yours a 'Lasting Impression'?"

Anya nodded. "It lives up to its name. Should I meet my bullying victim, I'll tell her I've had the cane and beg her forgiveness. Miss Roberts helped me forgive myself." She grinned. "I love being required to wear pure white cotton panties. I felt obedient, young and innocent."

"We agree," Jessica said. "I wear mine while I'm marked. It's a strict punishment, no matter my outfit."

Anya smiled at Jessica. Piling Godiva truffles in her palm, she asked Clare, "Does Mark know?"

"I showed him my punished bare bottom. He'd have noticed it in bed. He also disciplines me."

"Ooh. I bet that feels wonderful," Anya said. She'd imagined bending on a guy's stern command since her encounter with Miss Roberts.

"It stings. He's strong. He belts me hard, but it drives me wild. His canings hurt for days, but it keeps our relationship far from trouble. I love his stern voice. When I hear it, I'd bend over even if I'd done nothing wrong."

"Does he haul you into your bedroom and give you a strict dressing down?"

Clare nodded. "He scolds me. It's comforting. His strict mode turns me on. Obeying him is delicious. He cuts me no slack. I've had severe thrashings from him."

"I can certify his expertise," Jessica said.

"What?" Anya's eyebrows shot up, her poker face lost.

"He caned me," Jessica nodded. "I misbehaved one evening. We both got caned, bent over that dining table."

"Oh, my god. I'd have obeyed. Was he masterful?"

"Clare's a lucky girl."

"What happened?"

Jessica explained her lack of discretion, Clare's complex loyalties, and their canings.

"I could use a strict boyfriend," Anya said. "I'd keep him busy."

Jessica sighed. "They're impossible to meet."

Clare grinned. "Test plenty."

Anya rose. "For that mission, I need my beauty sleep." Gathering her jacket and bag, she thanked Clare for their evening.

Staying over, Jessica cleared the coffee table after wishing Anya goodnight.

Grabbing a final chocolate, Clare said, "Anya got it bad."

"Accountability hurts," Jessica replied, showing no sympathy.

Heading upstairs, her sex fired up by their evening, Clare whispered, "Don't sleep too well."

"I won't," Jessica grinned.

Jessica kicked off her black leggings, ripped her red tee over her head, and lay on Clare's guest bed. Undoing her bra one handed, she plunged her hand into her red cotton panties.

Memories of Mark standing over her with his cane returned. Her formal skirt tight on her bottom, he applied hard fiery strokes to her indiscreet backside. Disciplined for her disobedience, her hard clit welcomed her desperate strokes.

In this version of her fantasy, Mark ordered her out of her skirt. Discovering her white cotton string, he still ordered her to bend. She imagined Anya's pert bottom in pink panties bent beside her. Scolded in strident tones, her exposed bottom took the tougher thrashing. In her mind, she'd cursed at the dinner table. Guilty beside her, her friend cried out as her male delivered thrashing tested her willpower.

Red cotton strained over her hand as Anya's fresh stripes powered vivid fantasies. Arching her back, thundering orgasms saturated her body, washing her private dream into a tide of decadent bliss.

Bending over Clare's guest bed, her skimpy red panties pushed out for punishment, she imagined Mark had caught her in a lie and ordered her into position. Distressed by her imagined dishonesty, she slipped her fingers into her panties, sliding them to her knees.

Imagining his ruthless cane strokes on her conscientious bare bottom, she winced as she frigged her clit, bent in place. Hard cane strokes burned her obedient backside as she delivered a vicious string of orgasms, draining her stupendous pool of energy.

Anya's taxi was too slow for her sex. Unbuttoning her nudie jeans in the rear seat, she slid her hand into her pink panties. Her linen jacket spread over her lap, gentle teasing strokes kept her desperate. She ignored her driver's attempts at conversation, a hard male vision in her distant mind.

Struggling into her jacket, she buttoned it to cover her undone jeans. Exiting her cab, she waved at her concierge and dashed into the waiting elevator.

Reaching her bedroom, she stripped to her pale pink panties and faced her mirror. Clasping her hands behind her back, she imagined a ruthless male scolding. He tore a strip off her for masturbating in a taxi. His stern words whipped her mind as she held her submissive pose, forbidding herself pleasure.

Imagining her firm guy's orders, she touched her toes. Her male authority figure gave her a stark choice. No masturbation for a month and six strokes of his punishment cane, or the eighteen strokes she deserved.

Forcing her remaining obedient fingers into her bare toes, her right hand worked her soaking clit. Her tough scolding turned into eighteen harsh strokes thrashed into her panty-clad bottom. Rattan scorched tight cotton in her obedient mind as she pummeled her clit, discharging the tension built up over her brilliant evening.

In her tough position, she came hard. Crashing to the floor in obedient pleasure, she rolled, streaming staggering orgasms in surges of savage satisfaction.

Relaxing on her bed, she grinned at her exhausting pleasure session. Obeying a guy she respected was inevitable. She'd accept nothing less.

Clare circled her clit, hard and fast, splayed on her own bed in black panties, her sweatpants, tee and bra abandoned on her bedroom floor.

She imagined Mark caning Anya bent over their dining table. Her friend was taking heavy strokes for her poor attitude with immense grace. Used to being beaten, Anya's perfect obedience set them a lofty standard.

She and Jessica waited their turn, their attitudes no better in Mark's tough opinion. The deserving girl switched to Jessica in tiny white panties. Mark showed her no mercy, searing agonizing cane strokes onto her friend's tight bottom.

When Mark commanded her to bend over their dining table, she obeyed with pride. Punishing strokes scorched her black panties. She took her thrashing with dignity, challenging Anya for best performance, thrilled it was her confident boyfriend holding them to account. Her powerful beating flooded orgasms into her black cotton panties. Rolling onto her front on her bed, she shoved her throbbing sex into the sheet consumed by a complex cocktail of punishing pain and extraordinary pleasure.

Mark would make her pay. He'd promised her their heavy punishment belt for fantasizing about Jessica. She'd begged him to award her severe punishment. Her three days expired tomorrow. She'd get thrashed when he got home. Thrusting her hand into her panties, she twisted onto her back, spread her thighs, and imagined his tough tone.

His uncompromising scolding thrust fear into her mind and liquid excitement into her wet sex. She remembered Jessica's clever phrase; 'Accountability Hurts'. It would hurt her. In her mind, he lashed their heavy leather across her disobedient bottom. She deserved severe punishment. She'd surrendered all control to her shameless pleasure. With Anya joining Jessica in her fantasies, he doubled her discipline.

Ruthless zeal skimmed her nipples, the imaginary leather lashing her shameless backside. In her dreams her loving boyfriend delivered a merciless beating, regretful he must deal with her extreme disobedience.

Tortured by her terminal nipples, she flicked them, sending painful pleasure to her disobedient sex. Circling her clit, she imagined her shocking beating and pictured taking her punishment in front of Anya and Jessica, her guilt expunged by strokes of the massive belt. Coming over her hand, expensive orgasms pulsed pleasure through her devious sex, confirming the phenomenal price she must pay.