« Spanking Stories

Steering his Mercedes through morning traffic, Mark smiled at Clare. "That outfit is dynamite." Discarded on their kitchen floor last Friday, it thrilled him she'd recycled the stunning multicolored micro skirt.

Clare smiled. Woven colored lines decorated the striking black micro skirt, demanding tall boots. Her black merino wool sweater allowed the skirt to shine. Associated with her dreadful whipping from him, it didn't taint them. Indeed, her outfit wasn't an accident.

"You whipped me for my arrogant attitude and abominable language. I appreciate it. In this outfit, I neglected to bring you coffee, ignored you and lacked professionalism."

"True," he said.

"I can't condone my unprofessional conduct. Neglecting my boss deserves serious punishment. Our relationship isn't relevant. I'm wearing this cute outfit to remind me I may wear sexy clothes, but I still get my bottom caned. I'm visiting Miss Roberts this evening for my poor professional behavior."

He visualized her getting ordered out of her sexy skirt. He understood the deep, humiliating experience his girl needed. "Why today?"

"She won't punish me if I'm marked. You whipped me hard. No complaints. I deserved it. I also deserve whatever I get this evening. She won't go easy on me."

"I respect you for going. It's honorable. You deserve it. I hope it stings like fury."

His gentle scolding clenched her sex, adding to her remorse.

He smiled. "I look forward to supporting you afterwards."

"Me too," she said, returning his smile, her panties damp. He'd be aware his personal assistant was getting professional punishment this evening. Rivers of delight flooded her hot sex, and shivers rippled down her spine at her shared shame.

After lunch, she visited the office restroom. Pulling up her black cotton bikini panties, she stopped short. They were black. Miss Roberts' rule sheet required her to present herself in simple white cotton bikini panties, engendering an obedient attitude. She'd stood before her disciplinarian in innocent panties often, feeling young, respectful and sorry. Her disobedient black panties appalled her.

Below their office tower, an extensive underground mall provided acres of treasure. Exasperated by four different stores, her fear of failure grew. Miss Roberts would add severe punishment for breaking her rules. She feared disappointing her disciplinarian more than the extra pain. Where were plain white cotton panties? Plenty of girls desired innocent underwear.

Spying a mannequin wearing Calvin Klein white cotton bikini panties, she chose small. Relieved, she purchased them and returned to the restroom. Tucking her black panties into the bottom of her pebbled leather shoulder bag, she slipped on her tight white cotton. Innocent obedience clutched her curves. She touched her panty line, savoring the skimpiness of her feeble protection, and fingered the discreet brand name sewn once into the waistband. Her tweed micro skirt sealed in her obedience. Vibrant stitched lines drew eyes to her figure. None would guess innocent white cotton panties hid beneath.

In Miss Roberts' lounge, she perched on a straight-backed chair in her micro skirt; her legs in a duchess slant, knees and ankles together, heels, in her tall black Aquazzura boots, firm on the polished wood floor. Her familiar confessional unburdened her guilt, delivering therapy with meaning.

"Your skirt is marvelous, Clare. I'm enjoying your wider wardrobe," Miss Roberts said.

"Thank you. I'm proud of this outfit, less proud of my disgraceful behavior in it."

Confessing her disrespect towards her CEO, she avoided telling Janice's secret. Revealing that Mark's decision was honorable, leaving her reeling with self-disgust.

"Did he punish you?" Miss Roberts asked.

"Yes. He whipped me. A harsh lesson from my riding crop."  

"Glad to hear it. He's a good man."

"He is." she smiled. "I thanked him with all my heart."

"Well done. But your unprofessional business attitude is troubling you?" Miss Roberts asked.

"I'd never have treated him with disrespect before our relationship. My immature behavior escalated. I haven't got a suggestion for my punishment. I'll accept your decision with grace."

Miss Roberts let the silence develop, building on Clare's fear. "He's your boss. Your immature tactics deserve an appropriate punishment. A bare bottom spanking over my knee followed by six cane strokes."

"Thank you," Clare said, embarrassed as hell.

"Wait for me in my study."

Miss Roberts tidied her lounge, giving Clare a chance to ponder her impending humiliation.

Clare stood near the desk, her gaze fixed on the straight-backed chair beside it. Would Miss Roberts use it to spank her? Could she bear having her panties taken down?

Entering the study, Miss Roberts said, "Remove your skirt and boots."

"Yes, Miss." Clare unzipped her suede boots, placing them beside the desk. Stepping from her skirt, she laid it over a nearby chair.

Miss Roberts moved her straight-backed chair with a white leather cushioned seat from beside her desk, positioning it in the center of the worn wooden floor.

"Over my knee, Clare."

Miss Roberts' strict command didn't permit hesitation. Clare poured herself over her disciplinarian's knee, ashamed to be forced into her demeaning position.

She raised her hips as Miss Roberts slid her white cotton panties to her thighs, savoring her deep obedience.

"I don't expect this is pleasant for you, Clare. Neither was your childish behavior."

Drowning in bare embarrassment, Clare focused on her pathetic professional sulk. Damn, she needed this. She welcomed her shameful status, spreading her fingers on the floor, balanced over her disciplinarian's lap.

Hard spanks showered her bare skin, stinging salvos of hard smacks. Bare, her wretched spanking felt worse than the cane. Reduced to the silly girl she'd been, her shame burned hotter than her spanks.

"How does getting spanked feel?" Miss Roberts asked.

"Embarrassing, but deserved."

Miss Roberts smiled. Her unforgiving approach had produced results. "Up you get. Pull up your panties."

Giving Clare privacy to reacquaint herself with her panties, Miss Roberts selected the slender cane from her cupboard.

"Bend over the desk," Miss Roberts commanded.

Clare's tight white panties stretched as she welcomed the desk's privacy. The rattan rested against her thin cotton. She steadied her breathing. Her hot spanked bottom was an unpleasant start to her caning.

Heat flashed into her backside, her skimpy panties irrelevant. As pain stormed her defenses, she remembered denying Mark his coffee and exhaled through the hurt she deserved. Incidents of blatant petulance occupied her thoughts while the cane cut agonizing lines of fierce heat into her disobedient bottom.

"Consider the strict line separating your job and your relationship," Miss Roberts said.

She did. Mark was her boss. The cane struck her cheeks, vicious sting burning her unprofessionalism into dust. Firm ridges of fury expanded her field of hurt, adding to her anguish.

"Stand up," Miss Roberts commanded.

In her black merino wool sweater and white cotton bikini panties, she faced her disciplinarian.

With an unforgiving jab, Miss Roberts pointed the cane at her waistband, the tip hovering near her gray stitched 'Calvin Klein' logo.

"Those aren't plain white cotton panties."

"No, Miss. I wore black panties by mistake and bought these earlier."

Her excuse fell on deaf ears.

"Forethought is not a failing in you, Clare. I'm surprised."

"I'm sorry, Miss," she lowered her head. She'd disappointed her disciplinarian. Her fire filled bottom drowned in her pool of shame.

"I won't tolerate you breaking my strict rules," Miss Roberts said, replacing her cane and removing a thick black leather strap from her cupboard.

"Breaking my rules is an automatic four strokes of my heavy strap. I'm disappointed I have to strap you, Clare."

"I'm so sorry, Miss Roberts." She shivered in her thin jumper.

"Bend over."

She obeyed, re-assuming her position over the large pine desk. Miss Roberts' fingers slipped into the waistband of her disappointing panties. Her disciplinarian pulled them straight down to her thighs. Cool air on her bare bottom emphasized her disgrace.

The heavy leather slammed into her bare bottom, forcing her hips into the desk. Cataclysmic fire stung a vast burning band on her caned bottom. She panted, hard, overwhelmed by the savage heat. Offering no respite, the strap crashed into her exposed cheeks, packing heat lower. Where the strokes overlapped, tortuous fire burned. Her heel flicked off the floor towards her bum. It failed to ease her pain. Snapping her other heal, she gave up, letting her bare bottom burn as she sucked up her suffering.

"It hurts to be disobedient, Clare. I'm pleased you're feeling it," Miss Roberts said.

"Yes, Miss. Thank you. I'm so sorry. I deserve your strap."

Reduced to a disobedient young girl denied her panties, her last two strokes branded her lower bottom. She cried out, desperate to release her intense pain.

"Stand up," Miss Roberts said. "My rules exist for your benefit. Let's not have a repeat."

"No, Miss," she replied, repentant. She pulled up her panties and wrapped her soreness in her stunning skirt. Leaning on the desk to zip her boots, she said, "I'm sorry for my panties."

"I'm proud of you," Miss Roberts said. "You're a good girl. Go home. Love your kind man."

"Thank you, Miss," she said.

It was already growing dark outside. Her heels clipped down Miss Roberts' five stone steps and hit the front path in shock. Stepping from the street in a slick black skirt suit was her best friend of over a decade.

"Jessica," she exclaimed, her mouth forming a wide 'O'.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Jessica stared, embarrassed. She could neither turn back nor proceed.

Clare closed the six feet between them and hugged her best friend. "I've just had my bottom caned and strapped for severe disobedience. I've visited Miss Roberts for years, most often on the weekend."

"Nobody knows," Jessica groaned, overwhelmed by the horror of her secret being discovered.

"I respect you," Clare said. "Your secret's safe. We both need discipline. We're special," she grinned, stepping back so Jessica could see her smile.

"I thought I was part of a weird group," Jessica said, meeting Clare's gaze.

"You are. We're smart, disciplined, successful and guilt-free. Many girls get punished, although we're lucky to have Miss Roberts."

"I mustn't arrive late," Jessica said, giving Clare a slight smile.

Pleased to see her friend relax, Clare returned her smile

"I'm coming to your place for the biggest chat," Jessica said. "Send your handsome man somewhere, soon."

"Done," Clare said as they parted, Jessica to her painful appointment, her home to her man.