« Spanking Stories

Diane pulsed two shots of rich, dark espresso into her white cup. One glance confirmed the exquisite coffee was piping hot. Unless it was scorching, her Flat White would be all too flat. Aligning her cup under the steaming two percent milk, microscopic air bubbles frothed light, creamy foam. Subtle wrist flicks drew a growing white zig-zag pattern on her golden coffee. Withdrawing the cup in a straight line perfected the tree pattern adorning her Flat White.

"Richard," she announced, presenting the beautiful coffee with a smile.

Yesterday, her astonished co-workers had grilled her to death. Describing her experience, her actions sounded unreal. Proficient at operating the store's various coffee machines, jokes flourished over her skills with complex machinery.

Incessant interruptions from customers who wished to congratulate her slowed her customary high performance. Her tight black jeans and company-branded tee delivered delicious normality. Tomorrow they'd deliver deserved discomfort.

Their paddle had arrived this morning, surprising them both. Unwrapping it, natural wood aromas had pleased her nose. Placing it above their fridge, Neil had given her a hard stare, cutting her down to size.

Admiration for Neil's biceps had transitioned into genuine fear, quelling her excitement. Her punishment must hurt her.

Presenting two cappuccinos, made without her mind, she smiled at her customer. Her words to Neil returned. Gratitude for his mighty muscles replaced fear. She needed her serious adult punishment to correct their relationship course.

During her afternoon, she appreciated her tough boyfriend. Her punishment was justified. Placing two final classic hot chocolates, topped with whipped cream, on the collection spot at 6pm, she was looking forward to getting paddled.

From their en-suite, she glanced at their waiting bed, visualizing herself bent over. She wasn't proud of herself. She would assume her position with poise. Respect for Neil replaced her fear.

Naked from her shower, she studied her curves in the mirror. Five wall lights over-lit the vast mirror, the only thing vast in their tiny condo. Slipping into her bikini panties, she slid aside her white cotton for a last glimpse of her pristine butt. Smoothing her panties back into place, she stepped into her short black skirt, adjusting it. Her white bra and blouse complimented her smart outfit. Adding her suit coat, she regarded herself. Her man deserved this effort. It proved she respected their tough encounter. He loved her in her suit, but it wasn't the point. She gave herself a final heavy stare in the mirror.

Beyond the open bedroom door, he stood, paddle in hand, in their lounge. He hadn't changed. She appreciated his formal attire. Six feet remained between them. She stepped into their lounge and stood before him, her gaze lowered, her hands clasped.

"Look at me."

His stern tone drove instant obedience.

"I don't love my job. It's often hard to motivate myself for another day."

She hadn't realized he felt that miserable. He'd disguised his feelings well.

"I keep money coming in. Both our salaries are important. Together, we pay our mortgage. My skills outstrip my current role. I know I can earn more. That evening you diverted me from making the exact application which troubled you."

His simple truths hurt.

His tone hard as nails, he said, "To hear you've - 'wasted your time with me' - ruined my motivation. If you've wasted your time with me, leave." He pointed at their front door.

She stayed still, frightened her words might unleash a reality she never wanted.

"I'm doing my bit to achieve more for us. Your gut wrenching declaration was cruel beyond words."

She struggled to keep her gaze on his stern face, dying to run and hide. She hadn't meant it. Hard working, skilled and smart, his prospects were excellent. She'd chosen well. Locking her eyes on his, she said, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't sufficient," he barked.

Her gaze dropped to the floor. 

"Look at me," he snapped. "You ruined our relationship out of impatience. Did you mean those words?"

"No, Neil. I did not. I'm sorry. My disgraceful attitude disgusts me. Anxiety drove me to damage us instead of support us. I'm ashamed."

"Do you deserve to escape with a sorry?"

"No," she whispered. "I don't deserve to escape your harsh judgement. I deserve severe punishment."

"You're getting paddled."

His firm tone calmed her. He was in control of their situation, and her.

"Six hard swats."

Expecting three or four, she gasped. She hadn't imagined she'd get less. But six!

"Your punishment should match your wicked words. Ten hard swats are appropriate. I've reduced it to six because you asked me to punish you. That took guts."

Breathing to accommodate her shock, she said. "I'm sorry, Neil. I accept your judgement."

His decision was final in their plan. She'd elected to submit to him, accepting the consequences without question.

"Come with me," he said, his tone tough.

His explicit command enveloped her in obedience. She accompanied him into their bedroom. He twisted the rods to close their blinds while she shut the internal door. She didn't want to share her shame.

"Remove your coat," he commanded.

Slipping it from her shoulders, she lay it on their distressed oak chest of drawers, returning to her obedient stance, hands clasped. Goose bumps appeared on her bare arms in their warm condo. Stripping on his command suited her profound desire to submit. Her sex offered gentle, warm approval.

"Your skirt and shoes, too," he ordered.

Unzipping her skirt, she laid it on her coat, leaving her shoes behind, next to the chest. Standing before her boyfriend, ordered down to her white cotton panties, honor suffused her. He was right to strip her. She deserved it.

Raising their golden bamboo slab, he said, "Diane, this will teach you the tough lesson you deserve."

She knew it would. Hearing she deserved it, she said, "I'm very sorry, Neil."

"I'm sure you are. I'm about to paddle you." he said, patting the paddle against his slacks. 

The slaps sent shivers down her spine. Eight airflow holes in the smooth wood guaranteed their paddle would fly into her deserving bottom.

"Remove your blouse."

Unbuttoning her fitted blouse, her last vestige of protection disappeared. Laying it over her suit, her matching plain white bra and panties emphasized her utter surrender.

Pointing to the foot of their bed, he said, "Bend over."

She took her last step towards their bed, bent over the high mattress, and rested her weight on her forearms. Proud she had submitted with grace, her position filled her with a heavy sense of strict obedience.

"Reach back. Lower your panties to your knees."

His ruthless command drove her instant obedience. Baring herself beat him doing it, but showed his complete control over her.

"Consider why I've bent you over our bed," he said, tapping the huge paddle against her exposed skin. Soft wood caressed her bared bottom. His order consumed her mind. He'd bent her over their bed to beat her for disgraceful behavior. He was her decent man.

"Six serious swats, Diane."

She steeled herself to take it. The pain unknown, she couldn't be sure of herself. 

"Do you feel you've wasted your time with me now?"

"No," she gasped, not trusting her voice.

Neil breathed. Tapping the paddle, he'd aligned it across her lower bum. Raising the paddle, he allowed his disappointment to invade his mind.

Vicious sting burst over both cheeks in perfect parallel. A cry escaped her throat, drowned by heavy panting as pain penetrated her bare butt. The thunderclap of heavy bamboo on fresh flesh shocked her mind into silence. Heat spread under cruel sting as ache infiltrated deep into her bottom. Clenching her fists, she grimaced at their bedhead, forcing her forearms to hold her still.

"That's how sorry feels."

His harsh tone balanced her burning flesh with meaningful justification. She needed to feel so sorry it swallowed her words, squeezing them into fine dust and dissolving them away. Her sex appreciated his manner, flushing damp heat, affording solace to her burning butt.

The paddle tapped her sore skin. Knowing the pain to expect, as the paddle disappeared from her butt, she braced for impact.

"Relax," he said. "I know it hurts, but you deserve your punishment."

His sympathetic tone swamped her with extraordinary love. Her suffering must be severe. She begged it to hurt. The paddle slammed into her bare backside. Furious fire stormed across her sensitive skin. She sucked it into her heart, admitting her disgust with her behavior. Unlike her imagination, the actual pain burst through her guilt, storming her castle as its ache buried itself deep in her bare, deserving bottom.

Heat blasted her skin, building an inferno of agony. Her sex respected him for cutting her no slack. It pulsed wet heat, softening her agony as her pain built. Righteous pride swelled in her. Her man was thrashing her for disgusting behavior. He was right. She deserved it. Sting spread low on her underside, lighting fresh pain to ensure her fire didn't go out before she'd accepted full responsibility.

Tears threatened her eyes, but she denied them. She had no right to cry. Her suffering was just. Picturing their argument, she took her pain. Hard cracks filled their bedroom as her bottom erupted in repeated agony. Each surge of punishing pain crushed her foolish words to dust.

"Do you feel punished enough?" he demanded.

Her mental battle raged. God, her butt hurt. But her spiteful words had cut deep. Did her bottom measure up against her damage to their relationship?

Her thought escaped before she'd settled on her decision. "I deserve more," she groaned.

"You've had six swats," he said. "I'm proud of you."

Bravery won out. "Give me the whole ten." She wanted to prove her absolute commitment to him. He'd said she deserved ten swats. Ten swats she'd take. "I'm sorry," she said.

"I believe you."

His belief exploded her heart, soothing her behind. She pushed out her naked bottom.

Her proud gesture multiplied his respect. He'd followed his gut. Her offense had been grave. His punishment must match. Leveling the paddle against her behind, he cherished her beautiful bottom, glowing red with deserved discipline.

She slung her self-disgust at her pain as their paddle blasted her bare skin. Her supply exhausted, she threw pride. Each agonizing swat spread her hurt, ensuring no part of her butt escaped his tough justice.

Through a storm of agony, self-respect blossomed as she offered him her utmost respect. Ten full agonizing swats of sorry. Seconds passed before she realized she'd given her all.

"Stand up, your punishment is complete."

Her butt criticized her every movement as she rose from their bed. Turning to face him, her white panties fell to her ankles. Leaving them, she said, "Thank you. I respect you for blistering my butt. I don't regret this, but god it hurts. Please, may I rub it?"

"You may." He placed their paddle on the chest of drawer next to her suit. 

The hot paddle in his hand pulsed soaking wet passion into her sex. She slid into his arms, unsnapping her bra and slipping it down her arms to join her discarded panties.

"You're forgiven," he said. His warm tone conveyed a thousand words in two.

She nestled into him, pressing herself against his burgeoning manhood. At her obvious pleasure, it unfurled into hard pressure against her bare sex.

She ripped at his belt. He took over, shedding his clothes as she climbed onto their high bed, positioning herself on all fours, her bottom unable to bear the bed. Behind her, his hardness eased into her, delivering delicious delight deep inside her desperate sex. Forcing herself onto him, seizing him deeper with every stroke, his solid stomach spanked her sore bottom. 

"You thrashed me," she groaned, keeping herself on her perfect precipice.

"I did," he grunted, thrusting into her very core.

"You were hard on me. You gave me the full ten." She risked her fragile hold.

"You deserved them."

"I did." Her admission plunged cascading orgasms through her sex. He exploded into her tidal wave of pleasure, driving them both down onto their bed as her tsunami raked her deserving body.

Sliding from her sweat sleeked body, he wrapped their comforter over them.

"I respect you for paddling me hard," she whispered. "I'm in agony, but our relationship demanded it."

"I love you," he said, admiration painted all over his face.

In the kitchen, her phone rang. Tempted to ignore it, instinct drove her from their bed. Padding naked through their condo, her aching, burning butt disagreed with every step. She swept her phone from the surface.

"Hello Diane, it's Doug Diamond, Diamond Cross Air."

Surprised, she managed, "Hello, sir."

"Doug will do," he chuckled. "You saved my airline."

"Only one plane."

"No, Diane. Accidents can sink airlines. Your actions saved lives. You have my eternal gratitude."

"I followed my instincts."

"You have fine instincts. Thanks for doing the press conference. Juliet is still praising your performance."

"She helped me avoid this incident defining my life."

"What does your future hold?"

"Earning more money, I hope. I didn't set out to serve coffee."

"Diane. Money isn't your issue. I've appointed you an Honorary Captain of Diamond Cross Air. You'll receive a captain's salary for life."

"Oh my god. I expected nothing. You don't have to do that."

"Diane. That plane cost one hundred million dollars. You kept it in one piece, saving lives."

"Can I earn my salary?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Learning to fly."

"It's rough on relationships and home-life."

"I can handle stress in my relationship. Those accident investigators sought truth, not blame. Your staff treated John with respect despite working for the competition. Joining your industry would make me proud."

"You've got years of work ahead."

"I look forward to it."

"Your salary started this morning. My chief pilot will call you tomorrow. Diane, welcome aboard."