« Spanking Stories

Anya swept her black pebbled leather Coach carryall from beside her desk, checking her car key was in the secure pouch as she answered Carly. "You were defending yourself against unfair allegations. All tactics are at your disposal, including coarse language."

After yesterday's tumultuous morning, she'd delayed discussion of Carly's swearing. Her young superstar wasn't letting it go.

"I'd love to believe swearing at you was a sophisticated tactic. I'm afraid I was angry. My conduct was unacceptable in our professional relationship. I'd prefer you didn't fire me, but I deserve some censure."

Anya smiled as they stepped into the slow elevator. "I won't fire you. Could we discuss this later?" Whispering, she said, "I'm facing a severe punishment. Your actions pale next to my own."

"Fine," Carly replied. "But the matter isn't closed."

"Agreed." Anya focused on her own mental state. She must bend and receive severe punishment for her poor judgement. Procrastinating over her problem had caused Carly significant distress. Knowing the intelligent younger girl would observe her painful humiliation drove worthy self-respect down her spine. She'd made a shrewd choice.

Sliding into her white Audi TT, her navy micro skirt rose. Choosing her suit from her closet, she'd respected Carly's strict demand, removing her absolute shortest skirt. After punishment, she wore pant suits to hide her marks. Her tiny skirt would raise her fears all week. It was a just penance to pay in public. Anyone who heard her story would agree.

In bed, she'd imagined bending down in front of a client, her cane marks seen. In her dreams, she'd held her head high, admitting her mistake and her resulting punishment.

She glanced at Carly as she drove from the parking garage. "Thank you for insisting I wear this skirt. It feels honorable."

Carly smiled. "My pleasure."

Surprised by Carly's presence, Miss Roberts maintained her counsel, welcoming both girls into her front room. As Anya's tale unfolded, she conveyed her opinion with occasional frowns, Carly's presence making increasing sense. 

"What punishment have you chosen, Anya?"

Her punishment inevitable, her shame already acute, Anya said, "The thick punishment cane, Miss. Eight strokes."

"They must be hard strokes, young lady."

"Yes, Miss," Anya said. She released her held breath. It was a severe punishment, but Miss Roberts approved.

Carly watched. Witnessing her smart boss's submission refreshed her. 

Miss Roberts addressed Carly. "Witnessing Anya's punishment is an honor. I expect you to show her respect."

"I understand, Miss. We've discussed it. I respect Anya's decision."

"Good," Miss Roberts said. "You deserve your punishment, Anya."

Rising together, they went into the study.

"Anya, remove your jacket and skirt," Miss Roberts instructed. 

Hanging her navy jacket on the straight-backed chair, Anya unzipped her tiny skirt, stepping from it. Laying it on her jacket, she faced her disciplinarian in her crisp white blouse and white cotton bikini panties.

Standing beside the door, Carly watched as her Indian boss revealed her exquisite honey-gold, bare legs, emphasizing her state of undress.

Flexing the heavy punishment cane, Miss Roberts said, "You lacked faith in Carly and humiliated her. This cane will hurt you. You deserve your suffering. I'm proud you asked Carly to witness your punishment. Show her respect by taking it with exceptional grace."

"Yes, Miss. Thank you. I'm sorry," Anya said. Reduced to her panties in Carly's presence, heavy humiliation coursed through her body. Scolded in her panties, in front of her junior employee, her disciplinarian's words shamed her.

"Bend over."

Conscious of her bottom exposed in tight white cotton, Anya lay her forearms on the desk, spreading her fingers as the thick cane tapped her backside.

A firecracker exploded, its dull thud on her taut cotton insignificant for a single second, before blinding pain engulfed her bottom. Heat exploded in a crescendo, its biting pain worse as she scrunched her hands, battling to accept her justified agony.

Heat burned across her beaten bottom. Light taps preluded pain. A second stroke seared her skin, bridging her narrow cotton, burning her bare butt. Delivering peak pain, it faded, leaving an intense heat scorching her cheeks.

Miss Roberts allowed Anya's pain to develop. "I shouldn't need to teach you presumption of innocence, Anya."

"No, Miss," she groaned. Her disciplinarian's stern words strengthened her sting.

The ferocious cane stunned Carly. She hadn't felt Miss Roberts' punishment cane. The solid rattan impacts sounded evil. Wide white welts turned crimson, bursting from Anya's narrow panties. Submitting to just discipline in her innocent white underwear, her boss's severe thrashing exploded her senses and dampened her panties.

An inch lower, the cane struck Anya's bottom. She gasped. Fisting her hands, her knuckles whitened. Fire tore across her scant protection, burning fierce heat into her skin. Fusillades of fire scorched her bottom through her skimpy panties. Sending pain to her brain, they created a landscape of suffering where she'd sit. Despite her agony, she took her caning in silence.

Holding herself tight, her arms ached. She relaxed into her punishment as the rattan whipped into the crease when her bottom joined her legs. Stunned, her breath held itself. She begged her mind to swallow her pain as she kept her vow of silence.

The cane tapped her fresh welt. Her mind couldn't measure the promised pain. Sound rattan thrashed her sensitive crease, branding a welt beside her last. Rich distress coursed through her body, galvanizing her mind. A professional lawyer, trust and respect were pillars of her character. She deserved this sincere thrashing.

Her sex on fire, Carly stared at her boss's bottom. Red welts adored her golden skin, accentuated by neat white cotton. Taking her strokes in silence, a mere gasp had passed between her boss's lips.

"Stand up, Anya," Miss Roberts said.

Facing her disciplinarian, her bottom in agony, she shuddered in shame. "Thank you, Miss. It was a fair caning."

She met Carly's gaze. "If you require it, I'll bend over again until you're satisfied. I'm so sorry. I hope you'll accept I mean it with all my heart."

Carly smiled. "I believe you. I respect you and I forgive you. You made me proud. That was a serious caning."

"Thank you," Anya replied.

Stepping forward, Carly hugged her boss. The intimate kindness welled Anya's tears.

Driving to the office, Anya accepted her ordeal in dignified silence. Her panty elastic irritated her fresh weals as her bottom scorched her leather seat.

Carly glanced across. "You must be very sore. Miss Roberts thrashed you. Are you okay?"

"I am. Thank you for asking. You know I deserved it. I feel less guilty."

"I'm glad. You earned your forgiveness. Your skirt is high and your marks didn't show getting into the car."

"Thanks. I'll enjoy my uneasiness. Thanks for suggesting this skirt. I feel honorable paying this private, public penance."

"It was a cheeky suggestion. I admire you for accepting it," Carly said. "Your conscientious approach to your punishment compounds my guilt for swearing at you."

"I'm too sore today to give you fair attention, and I have meetings this afternoon. We'll discuss it, I promise."

"I haven't forgotten I was insolent. I'll accept whatever you decide I deserve."

Anya smiled at Carly. "We'll handle it."

Seating herself with painful poise, Anya kept her micro skirt decent. Having to pay close attention to her caned bottom increased her penitent pleasure. Ruthless in negotiations, her private repentance didn't show. Her fiery bottom burned into her chair, powering her fierce mind to conclude two sharp settlements for her clients.

Entering her city-center apartment, she stripped naked. Keen to wear her white panties all evening, she needed a respite from the hard elastic tormenting her fresh welts. Closing all her curtains, she reveled in her forced nakedness.

Passing mirrors, she surveyed her beaten backside. The low strokes hurt the worst when she sat. Dark marks merged to record her shame. Her behavior had demanded a severe thrashing. Her bottom confirmed she'd received one.

Lying naked on her couch, her fingers strayed to her damp slit. Excitement at her embarrassing predicament had built during her afternoon meetings. Shifting in her chair, spasms of pleasure had accompanied bouts of sharp pain.

Skimming her proud nipples, she panted as pressure built under her fingertip. Watched by her youngest staff member, she'd stripped to pure white panties, bent over and taken a formal caning.

Eight or ten years younger, Carly's determined gaze had delivered delicious humiliation. Spreading her legs, she exposed herself, thinking of her intense shame.

She'd bent in deep deference, her humble white cotton stretched taut on her bent backside. Pleasure sweetened her sex as she visualized her bent bottom before her disciplinarian and her youngest employee.

Relishing her obedience, she recalled her dutiful silence as the punishment cane beat her almost bare backside. Reduced to a disobedient girl, caned hard, her punishment fit her crime. Circling her clit, pleasurable pressure rose.

Imagining Carly's view, she saw her panty-clad bottom, the sharp cut of her white cotton following her sleek curves. Adding each red stripe in her mind, she panted as she replayed her intense pain, touching her tender evidence.

Her ridges bore testament to her remorse. She was a well-beaten girl. Her painful welts delighting her delicate fingers. Her desperate sex balanced on a knife edge. Opening fire on her finger, her sex flung urgent orgasms in salvos of sensational bliss.

Clearing her immediate pressure, she wallowed in unfettered private pleasure at her public embarrassment, submitting to endless shameful punishments under Carly's relentless gaze. In her favorite fantasy, she developed her vision to include all her staff watching Miss Roberts cane her, bent over her boardroom table.

Carly placed pasta in her microwave. Eating beforehand made sense. A brief delay would stoke her fires to merciless desperation. She approved of masturbation, proving it daily.

Hot on the underground train to her studio apartment, she'd crossed her legs to settle her steamy sex, only encouraging its desperate determination to remember Anya's bent bottom.

Her studio apartment provided endless places to masturbate. Unrestricted, she sometimes brought herself off hard facing her mirror. Standing was tough. It took powerful need. She packed her bed with endless pleasure. Masturbating on her couch always filled her with reckless abandon.

Her stimulated mind produced a stream of fantasies. Most days, her fantasies focused on her. Tonight it was her boss.

Finishing her food on her couch, she dumped her plate on the floor. Opening her black jeans, she shoved them down. Her mint green and white striped cotton panties aroused her. She'd worn panties of her choice, Anya restricted by her upcoming punishment to white cotton bikini panties.

She pictured Anya bent over Miss Roberts' desk in her white panties, getting red lines beaten onto her bottom. Reveling in the older girl's intense humiliation, she circled her clit with firm strokes. Her own tight panties reminded her of Anya's gorgeous white cotton ones.

Anya's earnest promise to bend to her ultimate satisfaction replayed. Rubbing her clit faster, she ordered Anya to bend. Her boss obeyed. Watching four painful cuts scorch her obedient bottom, her pleasure pounded against her limit. Heady on her boss's respect, her mind absorbed the powerful impacts as the cane completed Anya's necessary discipline.

Admiring Anya's strict obedience blew her pleasure curve. Ferocious orgasms ripped from her sex. Folding in on herself to contain her pleasurable pulses, they poured into her panties.

"Silly girl," she muttered, buttoning her jeans.

Carrying her plate to her kitchen sink, she tidied up before shifting her pleasure location to her bed.

Stripping to her panties, she lay on her bed. Anya's single gasp consumed her memory, audible proof the heavy cane had hurt her. Mint green and white cotton stripes stretched over her hand as the imaginary cane elicited gasp after gasp from her humble leader.

Pride in her powerful boss soared. She'd humbled herself to show her remorse. Focusing on tiny aspects of the tough punishment she'd witnessed, she rolled, forcing her finger hard onto her keen clit as she came, flooding her panties with intense pleasure.

She celebrated her boss's smart submission. On her floor, bent over her couch, writhing on her bed. Everywhere she felt aroused.

After a late shower, she chose fresh pale blue panties for sleep. Sliding under her covers, her phone lit up on her bedside table. She read Anya's message:

Anya's promise filled her mind, driving her clit hard. Pumped by passionate respect for her boss, she swore to return it. She wouldn't escape justice. Her boss wouldn't let her disobedience pass.

Thrilled Anya would hold her to account, her fantasies focused on herself. Apologizing to her boss, her submission was absolute. She'd accept any punishment. Pay cut. Extra work. A spanking.

The obvious idea engulfed her. Ramming her hand into her fresh panties, her boss ordered her to strip and bend, beating her vulgar language from her bottom, caning her with fury she deserved. She came hard, soaking her pale blue panties, her deep remorse flooding her with waves of sweet, submissive orgasms.

Cupping her calming sex, she promised herself; should Anya propose she bend over, she would. If her boss demanded her compliance, she'd strip. Visions of a formal work punishment flooded her with pleasure. It would hurt her. It should. She needed beating. She hoped Anya agreed.