« Spanking Stories

Carly came out of the shower, her gray gingham cotton pajamas on the bed ready to wear. She'd fended off Curtis for over a week, but couldn't continue. The bruises and deep ache from her double paddling had passed. But she was due to get the cane from Anya. The delay had been an extra punishment. Each evening she'd sat beside Anya on the couch, her soft tanned skin next to Anya's golden complexion, knowing that she was still pending the harsh rattan cane from the sympathetic older girl. The knowledge had kept her obedient.

Given her experience with receiving punishment, Anya had purchased a meaningful cane. It wasn't a heavy punishment cane, but was thicker and stiffer than the one Miss Roberts used most often. Its pain penetrated deep into her bottom and its wide marks lasted several days. A caning from Anya always left her punished, polite and contrite.

Picking up her gray gingham from the bed, she stepped into the shorts and buttoned the short top. She'd agreed Curtis could come over tomorrow night. Tempted to put off her punishment from Anya, she'd realized it was better he discover Anya caned her than got the idea she didn't wish to see him.

She would still keep Miss Roberts a secret. Her relationship with Miss Roberts was special and private, even from her boyfriend. It was embarrassing enough that he'd learn Anya punished her.

In her pajamas, she went through to the lounge. Anya was sitting on the couch in soft leggings and a relaxed white cotton top, her honey skin radiant against the white. Standing before her boss and friend in short pajamas, she felt humble.

"Thank you for your immense compassion last week when I'd taken such harsh punishments. I'm ready to be caned. I left multiple messes for you to clean up. No excuse is acceptable. You were right to impose the cane. I deserve it."

Anya looked up and smiled. "You're a good girl." She laid down her phone and went through to her bedroom. She kept the cane in her closet, always hoping someday she'd meet a man who'd use it on her. Returning with the rattan, she watched Carly straighten her posture. She knew that exact effect. The sight of the cane always induced strict obedience in her when she was about to receive it.

"I'll never tolerate sloppiness in this apartment," she said

"Sorry."

"I know you are. Let's get this over with. Six hard strokes. Bend over the couch."

Carly bent over the back of the white leather couch, leaning her arms on the comfortable seat. They'd dealt with her study deficiencies over the dining table. But this soft location suited her failure as a roommate.

Anya's fingers tugged at the loose waist of her cotton shorts. She raised her hips in compliance, and the older girl whisked them down to her ankles.

"I believe a little bare bottom embarrassment does wonders," Anya said.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice rich with submission. Her thin shorts would have afforded no protection, but Anya's dominance delighted her. It was as it should be. Her bottom bare, she was very aware of who was in command.

The thick rattan rested against her exposed skin.

The cane sliced into her. Blazing fire scorched a savage line of sincere agony. She panted as the heat grew to a crescendo. An expert, Anya let her experience the maximum effect of the stroke, giving it time to deliver its utmost agony and just long enough for her to dread the next.

The rattan rod cracked into her behind. Fire tore in a sharp line across her sensitive skin. She recalled the honey toast she'd inhaled for breakfast, unaware she'd dripped it on the floor. She pictured her boss and roommate having to wipe it up. Shame straightened her legs, and she pushed out her pain packed posterior for more.

Whistling as it flexed through the air, the cane impacted deep each time, penetrating her punishment where it would last. She exhaled, struggling to help the heat dissipate, but the combined strokes stung with distinct and compound intensities. She stretched her fingers on the couch to steal her concentration, but the pain won and demanded deep sorrow.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Sorry that I'm caning you and it hurts so much, or sorry that you created multiple messes?"

Appreciating Anya's ruthless scolding, she felt only gratitude for the firm girl. Her hurt eased, and she replied. "I'm very sorry that I'm being caned. It stings like hell. But I'm more distressed that I was such a poor roommate. Please cane me harder."

"Good girl. Last one."

She hadn't realized there was only one to go. Her resolve strengthened, and she relaxed into it. The purpose of the cane was to hurt her. It did her good, and she needed it.

The cane snapped against her skin, searing heat in a fiery line of serious punishment. She suffered through the pain, her spirits rising alongside. She'd fulfilled her obligation and asked for the cane tonight. The agony in her bottom rewarded her with acres of self-respect.

"You may get up," Anya directed.

She rose, crouched down, and pulled up her loose shorts. Facing Anya, she said, "Thank you for standing up to me and caning me. You didn't go easy and I appreciate the respect. I'm sorry I let you down."

"You're forgiven, Carly. Go to bed."

There weren't hugs after Anya had punished her. In their complex personal relationship, their relative positions took about an hour to readjust to normal after the intensity of a caning.

Her bedroom was across the apartment from Anya's with sliding glass doors which led out onto a tiny balcony where she could sip coffee and look over the city. It was a lovely apartment. Now a student and half living between two places, this felt like home.

Lying face down on her bed, she let her bottom burn in her pajama shorts. Private suffering after she'd got the cane was a powerful moment for her. The sweet release of forgiveness had driven away her guilt and left behind pleasant pain.

Sliding a hand under herself and into her shorts, she teased her clit as her bottom burned. She played back in her mind, Anya stripping her bare. Several times her shorts came down hard, shaming and embarrassing her. She'd needed the older girl to show her who was in charge and condemn her to strict obedience and sincere pain.

She slid her spare hand into her shorts and felt the thick welts on her bare bottom. They would hurt all night, but the pressure in her sex lapped up the pain and presented it as valid shame. Her finger sent a surge of satisfaction. She tensed, and her hips bucked as a powerful flood of pleasure rushed through her.

Ready for another round, she lay on her burning bottom and imagined telling Curtis. She'd strip down to her panties tomorrow in this bedroom and he'd see the broad red welts peaking from her panties. She pictured which panties she'd wear. It would be white cotton. Her caned innocence was certain to turn him on. On several nights, they'd talked about their strong session in the woods and both come while they were on the phone.

He'd warned her to expect it again. She couldn't imagine the drive home to law school without a pause on the way. If she had done nothing to deserve the switch, she'd made sure she did something during their drive. She craved it again, outdoors. Circling her clit with a vengeance, she replayed her whipping in the woods and savored the memory as she fingered the fresh, agonizing welts on her bare bottom.

With friends over during the afternoon, Curtis arrived late at Anya's apartment.

"Have you eaten?" Anya asked him.

"Yes, thank you," he said.

His muscular arm already around Carly, his expression of warmth and tenderness only paled next to hers.

Anya smiled. "Curtis, I look forward to getting to know you, but I imagine you both have selfish things on your mind. I'll see you at breakfast. It's a workday tomorrow so don't keep me up."

He grinned. No wonder his girlfriend held Anya is such high regard. She was beyond amazing.

Carly pulled him towards her bedroom, and he felt everything he'd missed in recent days.

"I've missed you," he groaned.

"Prove it," she replied, closing the door behind them.

He ripped off his jeans and flung his shirt on her bedroom floor. His manhood burst from his boxers. Tight and white, his power ripped pleasure into her as he grabbed her.

She wriggled away, grinning. "Let me get undressed."

He watched her leggings hit the floor and his manhood breached his boxers as she bared her breasts. "My god, you're beautiful," he said, catching her and kissing her as he forced her backward onto the bed.

The heat of his kiss blew up in her brain, and she rammed her body against his. Caught in his powerful arms, she rolled with him as he spun her on top and cried out as he forced her white cotton aside and plunged his hardness into her.

She stifled her cries as he drove into her depths. Grasping her bottom, he powered into her. She winced, and his fingers told her story before she could.

"You've had the cane," he exclaimed.

"Anya disciplines me," she panted in pleasure.

Her humble admission drove her over the edge and she burst into a stream of orgasms over his rock-solid manhood.

Thrilled by her clear pride and shame, he exploded his passion into her as she collapsed onto his solid chest, still impaled.

"Wow. I've missed you," he said.

"I've missed you, too," she said, caressing his substantial shoulder.

"Let me see," he said.

She rolled on her back, shoved off her white cotton, and turned away for his inspection. His fingers traced each welt. "She caned you hard," he said.

"I deserved a thrashing, and it takes courage to bend so it should be meaningful."

"I'm proud of you. What did you do?"

She twisted back to him and lay her head on his chest. "I didn't wash up my plate one evening and next morning spilled honey on the floor and didn't clean it up."

"I'd have caned you too," he grunted.

His confirmation sent thrills and shivers down her spine. In a home with him, six strict strokes would make her good. Sharing a home wasn't in their immediate futures, but the prospect excited her.

"It's not like you," he said.

"My mind was elsewhere."

"Where?"

His direct question flummoxed her. She didn't have a ready answer. She'd dreamed of the sweet shame in revealing her boss disciplined her, but she hadn't considered all the paths of conversation it might open up.

"I was anxious about dealing with a serious situation the next morning."

"What?"

She'd lost control of the conversation, and it didn't feel so bad.

"When I left you last week, I ran a stop sign and got pulled over by a police officer."

"Damn," he said. "Did you get a ticket?"

"No, but not because I didn't deserve it. I'm a member of Virtue, it's an app on my phone for girls who visit this disciplinarian. I've been seeing her since I was eighteen. Whenever something makes me feel shit, I go to her and talk to her about it. Hearing her confirm I've been as bad as I'd imagined helps. She follows it with punishment. Hard punishment. I was first caned at eighteen. Sometimes it's the strap or paddle."

"Hell. I'd never have guessed. You're a smart chick."

"So are the other girls. The club, Virtue, is a recent addition. My phone alerts me when I'm near another Angel. That's what we're called  - 'Angels'."

He grinned. "And are you?"

"What?"

"An angel?"

"Not when I'm ignoring a stop sign. The police officer, Melody, was an Angel. Instead of giving me a ticket, she ordered me to visit Miss Roberts, that's my disciplinarian. I got eight swats with the paddle."

"Jeez. That must have hurt."

"It did, and it's always on my panties so it stings without mercy."

"Damn. That's tough."

"We're tough girls and we're straightforward. The thing is, I put Melody in a tricky position. Her sergeant was with her, carrying out her annual assessment. He disapproved of her letting me off. She couldn't tell him I was getting the paddle instead. He threatened to fail her."

"How do you know?"

"She messaged me. With no idea how to show him she was sorry and her job on the line, she offered to accept the paddle from him. But he demanded I get it too, because he thought we we're friends and I'd got away with a serious offense."

"But you'd never met Melody before that moment."

"He couldn't learn that without discovering Melody visits a disciplinarian and we're not meant to reveal anything about other Angels. She begged me to take the paddle alongside her to save her career."

"And you did, didn't you? That's the real reason you've been so unavailable."

She nodded. "Fear overwhelmed me beforehand, and I made mess for Anya to clean up, hence the cane. But she was generous and delayed my caning until last night."

"How bad was the paddle from a police sergeant?"

"Awful," she said.

"What were you wearing?"

"Jeans, thank god."

She saw the sparkle in his eye. At his urging, she described the shooting range and how her punishment had unfolded. He wanted to know what panties she'd worn. They'd been navy and more skimpy than she'd have liked.

His hard manhood in his hand, he rolled her onto her back and entered her. "You grabbed your ankles on the officer's command."

"Yes," she whispered.

"He bent you over."

"I'd escaped justice. In his eyes, I deserved to be thrashed." Pride in the shame she'd endured pressed her against her pleasure. "He slammed the oak into my jeans, burning my butt right through my panties."

Curtis's dominant strokes controlled her pleasure. Her sex gripped him, desperate to hold on.

"You got an official police paddling."

"I did," she panted, the shame still sweet in her mind.

"Anya caned you. Where?"

"Over the back of the couch."

He'd noticed it on the way to her bedroom. He visualized her over the white leather.

"No jeans for that, I imagine."

"No. She took down my pajama shorts and caned me bare."

"Bare," he groaned.

Thrusting his entire strength deep inside her, his pleasure crashed through her sex and threw her over her cliff. Drowning in a crevasse of ecstasy, her orgasms merged with the hot shame of her recent punishments and his total control over her body.

Lying naked under the comforter, he said, "That's not the last time we'll talk about your police paddling."

"It was proper punishment and hurt. But it gets hotter every time I remember it and even more hot with you."

His delicious hand stroked her svelte curves and she basked in his warm touch.

"With or without your app, I believe you're an absolute angel."

"With a firm hand from you, maybe I'll stay one."

"Not all the time, I hope."