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Clare stared at her Screen Time report, her reduced phone usage plan in disarray, the statistical evidence damming. Up fifty-two percent this week. Eight hours of after-bedtime usage proved her woeful willpower. Instagram and Facebook topped her list, time-wasting news apps close behind.

Conscience she obsessed over her phone, she'd resolved to enjoy Mark, his thoughts more exciting than her news headlines. Several times she'd chosen conversation over mindless scrolling.

She'd set Sunday evening as her measured week. Her Screen Time report condemned her feeble efforts.

Her commitment an epic fail, deep, raw need rumbled in her brain. She'd made a personal commitment to self improvement. Her epic failure demanded meaningful consequences. She tapped, scrolled, and typed, confessing her shame into Miss Roberts' booking app. Her phone confirmed her early morning appointment, its proud screen mocking her failed plan.

Dressing in her black skirt suit, Miss Roberts reviewed her day's bookings on her iPad. Technology brought her girls closer. Their disclosures in advance often gave detailed warning of the layers of guilt she must undo.

Some girls unburdened as they booked, others offloaded in her lounge. Their concerns became hers. She reflected their own opinions, delivering painful, emotional release. During the evening, Clare had scheduled an 8am appointment, providing a succinct reason - 'Excessive phone usage'

Grinning, she checked her hair in her bedroom mirror. Today, she wasn't exactly going to help Clare.

In Miss Roberts' lounge, Clare leaned forward, sharing her Screen Time report with her disciplinarian.

"Rather a colossal failure," Miss Roberts said. "Do you feel your results reflect genuine effort?"

Clare's face fell. "No, Miss. Abject failure." She'd cheated on Mark with her phone.

"What punishment suits your laziness?" Miss Roberts asked.

"A hard paddling with lasting ache."

"Six swats. Your bottom ache will build over this week."

"Thank you, Miss," Clare said. Ache would permeate her paddled bottom, worsening as her deep bruises developed.

Miss Roberts struggled to avoid smiling. She must punish Clare, but also invite her to join her new app. Early usage stats suggested it would hinder her client's good intentions.

Several months ago, she'd pored over the diverse professions of her clients, seeing a powerful group of exceptional young women. An idea had gelled. She'd outlined a simple friendship app. Written by a digital engineering company she'd hired, she'd already given access codes to over one hundred girls. Clare would make it one hundred and one.

Miss Roberts stood. "Letting yourself down hurts. You deserve your paddling."

Clare followed her disciplinarian into the study.

"Open your most used app. Place your phone on the desk," Miss Roberts instructed.

Pulling her phone from her handbag pocket, she centered it on the desk, her bright Instagram feed on screen.

Miss Roberts took the heavy, pale oak paddle from her cupboard. "Take off your jacket," she ordered.

Clare removed her black suit coat. Her crisp white blouse and black tailored pants hugged her curves, two-inch heels inviting eyes to her long, slim legs.

"Drop your pants and bend over."

Kicking off her heels, she faced the desk, undid her slim decorative belt, and unbuttoned her suit pants. Pushing them to her ankles, she bent over the desk in her white cotton bikini panties.

Beneath her tight suit pants, her clean-cut cotton panties were discernible, the panty lines impossible to hide. Her subtle embarrassment delivered rich shame. Her obedience made her a nicer girl. The massive oak rested against her thin white panties.

The paddle crashed into her butt cheeks. Burning sting erupted as pain pounded deep into her rear. Complete agony from a single swat swarmed through her skin, permeating pain.

"Checking earlier would have shown your usage was off course."

Embarrassed by her failure to control herself, she cherished her stern scolding. Concentrating on her screen, devastating cracks echoed off the walls as fiery heat thrust through her thin panties, delivering deep discomfort. Instagram appeared less interesting from this angle.

Holding still, the oak burned her skin. Punishing fire built in her butt. She panted, accommodating the blaze. Fair punishment for fiddling with her phone, she respected the giant paddle. Oceans of self-respect eased her pain as her sex admired her responsibility.

Her goal private, she'd still failed Mark, neglecting him in favor of her phone. She held her phone's gaze as the paddle slammed fury into her lowest curves, bursting heat across her barest flesh. Her sex lapped up her misery, satisfied by her genuine submission.

"Stand up, Clare."

Facing her disciplinarian in her white panties, deep ache penetrated her fiery flesh. "Thank you. I needed paddling."

"You're a good girl, Clare. You deserved it. Get dressed."

Pulling her tight suit over her swollen butt, her professional pants sealed in her aching pain and burning shame. Slipping on her fitted jacket, she dropped her phone into her bag.

Miss Roberts smiled, handing her a royal blue business card embossed with a white capital 'V'. "I'm afraid this may frustrate your fine intentions. You're invited to join an exclusive app for my clients. You can meet other successful young women who hold themselves to account. One hundred girls have joined."

"Sounds nice," Clare said.

Miss Roberts smiled. Every client had shown caution, however stats showed high message activity in the app.

Recognizing the irony, Clare laughed, "I may need paddling every week."

"Perhaps cut yourself some slack. Sometimes, your phone provides genuine benefit."

Royal blue curiosity burned in her pocket. Surprised by her invitation, its possibilities had consumed her brisk walk to the train station. Settled in her seat, she rested the card in her lap.

White writing told her to download the app. With twenty minutes to spare, she complied.

A royal blue icon appeared on her screen, a strong white V encircled on it. Tapping it, she entered her alphanumeric code from the card.

'Welcome to Virtue' unfolded across her screen in white against royal blue. Beneath, it read: 'Join Forces'.

Joining forces with sensible girls inspired her, pumping her motivation. She tapped 'Continue'.

Entitled 'Be an Angel', her screen contained a straightforward instruction. Wriggling her butt to ease the burn, she read Miss Roberts' words. 'Be an Angel. Help other Angels. Offer friendship.'

She could be an Angel. She tapped 'Continue', her excitement rising.

Accepting the terms and conditions, she didn't read them. A white screen held a royal blue title - 'One Rule'. Beneath dark text read: 'I will act like an Angel or get caned at Miss Roberts' sole discretion'.

She hit 'Agree and Continue', thrilled to meet girls who agreed.

She flicked through recent Angels, glancing at their professions. Selecting Personal Assistants, she found several. Her smile broadened. Other girls would realize her bottom received a regular beating, but it cut both ways.

Empowered by her membership of this elite club, 'Jenny' caught her eye. A striking redhead florist with a cool one-liner: 'Almost flawless. How you handle almost counts.'

She tapped 'Join Forces with Jenny', typing 'Good Morning. Flawed today, but handled already. Fancy a drink sometime?'

With swift precision, she uploaded a professional headshot from her photos, adding her introduction: 'At the top of my game with a little help'.

Before she'd finished, her notifications showed a reply from Jenny: 'Lovely idea. This evening too soon?'

Eleven whimsical words. One new friend. Genuine phone benefit. Ridiculously excited, she felt fabulous.

Both thumbs busy, she typed, 'Can't tonight. Tomorrow? Two of my friends see Miss Roberts. Do you fancy meeting us all?'

'Tomorrow's cool. A group session sounds fun!'

Settling the details with Jenny, she messaged Anya and Jessica, urging they contact Miss Roberts for access codes to join Virtue. Her butt sore on her carriage seat, an air of angelic wonder washed over her. She loved Angels, and she loved being one.

Mark closed their penthouse door. "You're meeting her tomorrow? We've got tickets to the game."

"Shit," Clare said, putting down her computer bag. Keeping her excitement a secret at the office, she'd chattered non-stop on their drive home, covering her phone usage, her paddling, Virtue, and Jenny. "We only met this morning. I'll look crap if I cancel."

"They're hot tickets. I'll call my mates." He loved her coming to games. She didn't share his joy, but he loved her commitment to their relationship.

"Sorry. In my excitement, I forgot. I've shown you callous disregard."

"Your bottom will pay. Sound swats seem fair." Collecting her in his arms, he rubbed her butt through her thin suit pants. She winced. He kept doing it. "I noticed your panty line. I should have realized you'd been to Miss Roberts."

"It's embarrassing," she said.

"And shameful. You've enjoyed it, haven't you?" he guessed, cupping her sore bottom. "You sat still through meetings. I never realized."

"You shouldn't. An Angel respects her punishment and handles her discomfort." She pressed her sex against his hardness.

"And she remembers a date with her loving boyfriend," he growled.

His tough telling off tingled her sex. Ashamed of her herself, his stern declaration she'd pay thrilled her. She loved her strict man. He'd fix her immediate guilt.

"Fetch the paddle. Meet me in our bedroom."

Obeying his orders, her sex clenched tight. He'd woken her stinging bum. It hurt good. He knew she was sore, but hadn't let her off. Respect surged as she climbed their glass stairs.

Extracting the oak paddle from their discipline cupboard, she entered their bedroom. Waving her hand over the bedside panel, she closed their drapes. Waiting beside their bed, she clutched the enormous paddle.

She deserved punishment. Her neglect had shocked her. It must come with dire consequences. She welcomed her coming suffering. She'd bend with pride.

Entering their bedroom, he admired his gorgeous girl in her professional business suit. Sore as she was, she hadn't argued or requested leniency. She knew he'd thrash her and had accepted she must submit. He admired her bravery. His heart soared as he caught her honest eye.

Taking the paddle, he hardened his tone. "Drop your pants and bend over the bed."

She undid her belt, button and short zip, pushing her pants down her sexy legs for the second time today.

In her white cotton, she bent over their bed, proud of her suitable panties. Her aching butt hadn't received its deserved dose. Disciplined at dawn for her neglect of her man, she'd done it again. She needed a solid second dose.

He rested the oak against her butt. "I agree you mustn't let down your new friend. She sounds impressive."

"Thank you. I'm sorry it's at your expense." Her position guaranteed humility.

"I'm sorry I must paddle you when you're sore. But it's your own fault. I won't allow you to avoid fair punishment."

She'd earned tough justice. Her bottom would throb for him. These fresh swats would hurt the worst. She steeled herself to remain obedient, respecting her just punishment.

"I deserve it. I'm sorry," she said. "Don't be kind."

She'd regain his respect. The paddle tapped her white cotton. She stared straight ahead, resigned to her pain and ready for it.

Deep ache burst awake and sharp sting singed her skin as the heavy oak struck her hard. She panted as pain invaded her butt, thankful he'd been tough on her. She owed him the dutiful acceptance of her swats. Calming her mind, she braced herself.

A thunderclap of oak on cotton filled their bedroom. Vicious sting burst across her paddled butt. Agonizing ache drove into her bottom as fire scorched her. "I'm sorry," she cried, strangling her words as heat overwhelmed her backside.

Gripping their quilt, she endured her distress. Her butt burned for him. Neglect wasn't her nature. She'd struggled to improve this week. Her burning butt proved her failure.

"You're forgiven," he said. "You may stand."

Kicking off her expensive pants, she shucked her jacket. Climbing onto their bed in her white blouse and panties, she lay on her punished bottom, circling her desperate clit with fierce abandon, white cotton stretched over her hand.

Stripping to his tight white cotton shorts, he lay beside her, his manhood straining for release. Shoving his shorts down, he rubbed his hardness, watching her masturbate.

"You paddled me hard. I was a crap girlfriend. I deserved swats," she said, breathless. Her hips lifted as her finger drove her pleasure against her blatant need.

Stroking himself fast, he growled, "I had to paddle you. Two hard swats."

"You scolded me," she panted. "Bent me over in my smart suit and paddled me hard on my white panties."

His hot fingers slipped under her elastic. Lifting her hips, she let him remove her panties. He kicked off his shorts, entering her wet sex, assuming control of her urgent need. His firm strokes tormented her forceful grip on his manhood. Thrusting his respect deep inside her, he came hard, flinging her over her edge. Flexing beneath him, she came, her hips bucking in furious pleasure, chucking slews of orgasms down their bed and wallowing in their bliss.

Drawn closer by their intense coupling, they lay sated.

He glanced at her phone beside the bed. "I don't think your phone usage is excessive. We read news, keep up with friends. I love you regardless of your phone usage." 

She sighed. She'd already lost the battle with herself, Virtue consuming significant time today. "Miss Roberts suggested I ensure it's beneficial."

"She hasn't helped today," he grinned.

"I declare Virtue beneficial. I'm an Angel. Plus, I've gained a new friend who understands decent discipline."

He grinned, climbing off their bed. Picking up the paddle, he said. "Since you're an Angel, we won't need this anymore." 

Meeting his resolute gaze, she warned, "I'm not always an angel."