« Spanking Stories

"I don't have to speak to you," Carly said, noticing the beautiful Indian lawyer waiting outside her college gates. Yesterday she hadn't liked her. Nothing had changed.

"You don't," Anya agreed. "However, I can fix your problem if you'll listen. Please, join me for one cup of coffee."

Carly studied Anya's smooth, dusky skin. Long black hair graced her fine cheekbones, cutting a lithe athletic figure, dressed down in pale-blue skinny jeans, white blouse and flat sandals.

"Okay," Carly said. "I'll report our conversation to my lawyer and leave when I wish."

"Agreed," Anya smiled. She hadn't dispatched her layers of competent human-rights-trained lawyers to demolish Carly. Clare and Jessica had lost their privacy to enlist her personal support. Grabbing two plain black coffees, she led them to a corner table. She studied the attractive eighteen-year-old college girl. Light auburn neck-length hair framed her pretty face. Intelligent eyes stared at her, demanding she speak.

"Yesterday, when Miss Roberts and I met with you and your parents, you remained adamant you'd expected therapy."

Carly nodded.

"You showed me Miss Roberts' business card. The card you waved at me, she ceased using over a year ago, when you were seventeen."

Carly's face dropped. Assuming she was in control, she hadn't realized Anya wouldn't have met her unless she'd already won their legal battle.

"Carly, please trust me. Growing up, my friends got spanked and caned." She maintained her momentum. "You've intended to visit Miss Roberts for years, haven't you?"

"And now I've blown it," Carly sobbed.

"Unless...," Anya said.

Carly stopped sobbing.

"You live at home," Anya said. "I'm guessing your parents saw your cane marks. You created your deceptive tale to cover yourself. Am I right?"

Carly nodded. "It was my mom. I'm sorry. Please, will you tell Miss Roberts, I'm sorry?"

"You'll tell her yourself, if you follow my plan. Are you interested in hearing me out?"

Carly sniffed back tears. "Yes, please." The beautiful lawyer had figured her out.

"Work for my law firm, part time. Office duties; cleaning, preparing coffee, filing, research if you're lucky. Your salary will get you a tiny studio apartment. I'll give Miss Roberts two hundred on your behalf. She can sign a settlement agreement with your parents, admitting nothing. You must support her agreement, showing your parents it satisfies you."

"You're giving me a job?" Carly exclaimed.

"I'm giving you freedom, Carly. You believe in strict discipline. I think you're wise beyond your years. You lied to protect yourself. You aren't a bad girl. I expect you to apologize to Miss Roberts. It will require immense humility, and I imagine hurt like hell."

"Thank you," Carly said. "I'll throw myself on Miss Roberts' mercy. I deserve none." She deserved a severe thrashing. Facing Miss Roberts after what she'd done would test her guts. She hoped she'd acquit herself with dignity. A devastating thrashing was inevitable. Nothing else would serve justice.

Anya smiled. Miss Roberts hadn't agreed to this offer, but understanding young women was her entire business. Plus, she'd argue for Carly.

"Thank you for my job," Carly said. "I don't deserve it."

"You will." Passing Carly her business card, she said, "You start Monday, after college."

Anya's receptionist showed Carly her responsibilities. All files stored in their correct locations, and excellent reports of her coffee, smoothed her professional entrance.

"I've heard excellent reports this afternoon from my team," Anya said, taking a black leather armchair in her office opposite her newest employee. "You look professional. Thank you. Are your parents okay with their settlement?"

Carly smiled. Her smarter college outfit, neat black jeans with a crisp white tee, boosted with clean white sneakers and a folded sleek black blazer in her backpack, had delivered her proud professional appearance. "Yes, thank you. I declared the matter closed. My job impressed them."

Anya smiled. "Good. I've spoken to Miss Roberts. Your appointment is tomorrow evening. Your silly behavior will cost you. Show her you're sorry."

"Yes, boss," Carly said. "Admitting my guilt will hurt worse than my punishment."

"Doubtful," Anya grimaced.

Carly shivered. She'd imagined her warm welcome accompanied by an extreme thrashing. Proud of her flawless apology, Miss Roberts would still condemn her to a severe sentence. Her memorable initial visit had hurt far worse than she'd expected. However, her stunning relief and soaring self-respect had beaten her every dream.

Touching her fresh burning welts, she'd got turned on in her bedroom, driving explosive orgasms as she re-lived her authoritative professional caning.

"I'll appreciate your corporate apartment tomorrow night when she's spanked me." Anya had granted her its benefit while she leased her own.

Anya admired the gutsy girl. She understood her. "Be brave. Take your thrashing with grace. I hope it hurts like hell."

"Good evening," Miss Roberts said.

Carly darted through her disciplinarian's front door in her neat black blazer, jeans and sneakers. Following Miss Roberts into her lounge, her disciplinarian gestured to her couch.

Sitting, Carly clasped her moist palms in her lap.

Taking her armchair, Miss Roberts waited. She wouldn't help Carly. She'd welcomed her and offered her a seat.

"Miss Roberts, I lied about you." Carly raised her head and met her disciplinarian's gaze. "I'm so sorry. I wanted you to cane me for my faults. When I departed I was sore, spanked, but happy. When my mom saw my marks, it embarrassed me. I couldn't admit I'd chosen to accept meaningful discipline. I panicked, and I lied. Once I'd started, it was impossible to change tack. Anya was kind, making me look foolish in private. She saved me from myself. Please treat me like an adult, if you'll accept me."

"How can I trust you?" Miss Roberts demanded. Inclined to forgive her young former client, Carly's forthright, humble apology had touched her.

"I've summoned the guts to face you. I feel dreadful, and I'm so sorry."

Miss Roberts studied her reformed client. She'd thought Carly wise. Recent events had disappointed her.

"Please give me the chance to prove I'm worth it," Carly begged.

"I won't go easy on you. You'll suffer for several days. I expect to witness incredible dignity and utter grace, despite your fervent wish to escape your suffering."

Carly relaxed. Her shoulders sank, and she almost smiled.

Miss Roberts recognized the positive signs. "Are you wearing plain white cotton bikini panties?"

"I am, Miss."

"Six strokes of my cane across your panties. I consider your last punishment ineffective."

"Thank you, Miss," Carly said

"Six strokes of my cane on your sensitive thighs for your incredible deceit."

Carly's thighs tensed. Humiliating marks on her delicate skin were fair. Meeting Miss Roberts' eye, she said, "It's necessary. I'll bear your marks in dignified shame."

Pleased with Carly's attitude, she smiled. "You caused me to involve Anya in my business. I'll bare your bottom for two strokes of my heavy punishment strap. Its intense burn will humble you."

Carly blushed. She'd rather lower her own panties. But she deserved her humiliation.

"Thank you," Carly said. She counseled herself. She'd earned her ruthless spanking. Her suffering was essential to regain Miss Roberts' respect.

Rising, Miss Roberts guided her into the study.

Sliding off her blazer, Carly hung it on a straight-backed chair. Facing her disciplinarian, she awaited instruction.

"Drop your jeans," Miss Roberts ordered.

Grateful to begin, Carly unbuttoned her black jeans, forcing them to her ankles.

Miss Roberts flexed her cane, its subtle whistle promising intense pain. "Bend over."

Bending low over Miss Roberts' vast pine desk, shame shook Carly. Gripping the edge with her fingertips, she presented her thin white cotton panties for punishment. Her punishment must hurt her. She hadn't trusted her mum to understand. She hadn't trusted Miss Roberts, and she hadn't trusted herself.

"Six strokes since you didn't learn your last lesson."

Tapping her panties, the cane slashed into her bottom. Intense pain soared. She hissed as its heat scorched her mind. Live lines of fiery pain blistered her lying cheeks. Welcoming each searing stroke, her skin flamed in agony as her mind berated her and heavy marks of hypocrisy hurt her soft cheeks.

"Stand for your beliefs. You should have told your mom painful punishment benefited you or kept your cane marks hidden."

"I'm sorry, Miss," Carly said. Her scolding eased into the pain flowing from her beaten backside, melting some of her guilt. "I'm sorry for my disgraceful conduct."

"Good girl." Unseen, Miss Roberts gave a small smile.

Carly exhaled as the rattan rod rested against her tender thighs. She'd never experienced whipped legs. Her bottom felt padded, her legs didn't.

"Keep your legs still," Miss Roberts ordered.

Summoning her reserves of bravery, she demanded her legs remain dead still. Imagining her imminent pain was worse than it beginning.

Swift rattan sliced into her tender thighs, eviscerating her confident preparation. She cried out as white hot pain agonized her skin, wriggling her hips.

"You may yell, but stay still," Miss Roberts warned.

Panting hard over the desk, Carly couldn't fathom her agony. The cane cut a fresh welt, sizzling her skin. She concentrated on her behavior. She wished she'd stood up to her mom. Sharp pain tenderized her flesh in explicit agreement.

She yelled as the cane shocked her skin in visceral bursts of fierce agony. Deep welts consumed her thighs as she pressed her feet onto the floor. She'd lied. She owed Anya for saving her, Miss Roberts for welcoming her, and herself for accepting she'd been a gutless coward.

The last stroke erupted in her softest crease, a direct strike where her legs met her bum. She stamped her feet as her strangled cry filled the study. "I'm sorry," she yelled. Calming herself with her outburst, she maintained her position, her thighs on fire.

"Stand," Miss Roberts ordered. "Face the wall. Put your hands on your head."

Carly shuffled to the cream plastered wall, her jeans around her ankles. Her nose touched cool plaster as her burning bum faded, overwhelmed by her raging legs.

"Consider the lies you told while your pain sinks in," Miss Roberts instructed.

Pushing her hands into her hair, she scolded herself, tearing her attention from her agonizing legs. She had Anya's corporate apartment to appreciate her punishment in privacy. She'd earned her pain with her serious deception. Her admission eased her fire as her sex plunged her into dreams of her pleasure tonight.

Miss Roberts interrupted her dreams. "Bend over the desk."

She shuffled. Movement eased her pain. Bending where she'd already received her beatings demanded guts. Imagining her painful strapping for wrecking Miss Roberts' privacy, she gathered her remaining courage.

Miss Roberts' fingers invaded her waistband, humiliating her as her disciplinarian whisked her panties to her ankles. Her bare bottom on display, she felt her eighteen years slip away.

"You caused me to involve others in my business."

A savage crack echoed off the study walls. Fierce sting exploded as her disciplinarian's leather strap unfurled on her bare bottom, casting a carpet of fire over her recovering cheeks. Pulsing with her pain, she swallowed her burning backside into her repentant mind as her lower bottom amplified her inferno, receiving her second strike.

"Pull up your panties and jeans," Miss Roberts ordered.

Carly winced as her panty elastic dragged over her welted thighs.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Miss Roberts declared, satisfied.

Carly's jeans tightened, baking heat into her swollen butt. "I deserve it," she said. Her legs and bum burning through her jeans, she buttoned them tight.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Miss Roberts asked.

"I have, Miss. Thank you. It was necessary."

"You took your tough punishment well. Visit me anytime."

Carly smiled as Miss Roberts hugged her. "You're a good girl, Carly."

She left, her pride soaring alongside her pain. Walking to the train station, she messaged Anya. She'd agreed to report back. She gripped a support post on the city-bound train. Her denim clad fiery legs thrust rich pride into her soul as she sped towards her temporary home.

Walking past the convenient food store, she entered the soulless sandstone building. Ignoring the pool table near reception and elevator to the spectacular roof garden, she headed to her private space. Tomorrow morning she could walk naked from her shower, her blatant cane marked bare bottom on pleasant private display.

Checking into Anya's firm's corporate apartment yesterday, she'd vowed she'd repay her boss's amazing generosity with loyal service. Her studio apartment would be tiny, but it represented total freedom. Released from her punishing jeans in her lounge, her burning legs welcomed the cool air.

She skipped to the full length bedroom mirror and admired her panty clad butt. Edging from her white cotton were six distinct red welts. She lowered her panties, letting them fall to the floor as she counted her six cane stripes across her cheeks, blended by her blazing strap marks. But the sting from her thrashed legs demanded her utmost recognition. Her eye traveled down, respecting the tight red lines decorating her bare thighs. Her panties might afford some privacy in a changing environment, but her legs were for display. They screamed punished girl in electric red.

Tipping onto her bed, she circled her firm clit. Re-living her tough train trip home, caned, and obliged to behave with dignity in public, her salutary lesson drove heat into her sex. She plunged her fingers deep inside, teasing her body, and returned to work her clit with a frenzy, recalling every stroke of her heavy punishment.

Losing herself in her blazing strap strokes, she came hard, bursting her juices onto her sticky fingers as pleasure crashed through her, commending her obedience and honest acceptance of her severe thrashing.

In her city center apartment, Anya read Carly's message in delight.

She remembered Clare and Jessica's discomfort, exposing their secret to request her help. She'd admitted knowing girls at school who got caned. Impressed by her friends' dedication to exemplary behavior, she'd kept her famous poker face.

Having put their problem to bed, she owed them equal respect. They'd bared their souls, and she'd left them uncomfortable. Grabbing her phone, she messaged her friends 'Fixed your problem. Girls' night soon? Just us?'

Clare responded first. 'Great! Friday 7pm, my place.'

She'd stripped to her favorite pink bikini panties, ready for bed, when Miss Roberts called. She'd asked her to call when she became free, needing a satisfied client to close her case.

Miss Roberts reported newfound respect for Carly. Her attitude had been admirable. "You're incredible, Anya," she said. "You must send me your bill."

Waiting, Miss Roberts recognized Anya's female silence, her negotiation with herself, her last chance to escape, and her final decision.

Inhaling a deep breath, Anya said, "Please, may I take payment in kind?"