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"So how can you afford a smart car like this?" Curtis asked.

Carly navigated out of the law school parking lot. "It comes with my job."

Her black VW Golf gave her safe travel home during breaks and made her popular with her classmates for days out during term. On a full salary with Anya's firm, she lived in comfort while studying.

She had to work for Anya during her breaks, but working for Anya wasn't a burden, she'd have done it for free. Since the human rights lawyer had first employed her, at eighteen, to help her out of a problem of her own making, she'd become a valuable employee.

"Nice job," he said, glancing around the black leather interior.

She grinned. "I adore working for Anya. I'd do it for free, except I can't afford to."

The panoramic glass sunroof lit up the interior and raised her already sky high spirits. She'd see her parents every week while she was home, but she always stayed with Anya. They had a simple agreement. Not that she would need it during this visit. If she presented grades below Anya's expectations, the beautiful Indian lawyer caned her. Not yet settled into the structure of studying, Anya had caned her on her first trip home. Upon her arrival and every week until she returned to law school.

Anya had first spanked her with a wooden yardstick ruler they'd found in the office when her language to her boss had warranted it. The discussion which had followed had dispatched her to law school. The cane in Anya's apartment waited for her on every visit, and she welcomed the older girl's discipline.

Living away, she saw Miss Roberts less often. But when she did, it was for failings which mattered. "So what happened with Isla?" she asked.

Curtis and Isla had split up, but she needed to know over meant over.

"She wanted me to switch my specialization to mergers and acquisitions. Mediation didn't make her look good. She's with a guy from M&A already."

"You're better off without her," Carly said.

"Too right."

It was the robust statement she needed to hear. She wouldn't have offered him a lift home if he'd still been with Isla. It wasn't worth treading on another girl's toes for the gesture. His family lived in a suburb twenty minutes out from Anya's city center apartment, and she liked him because he hadn't hesitated to whack her.

After the fateful mediation session with her Ultimate Frisbee teammates, she'd gone back to her room in the halls of residence, plunged her hand into her black string panties and not taken it out since. Her bottom on fire and already aching, she'd discarded her jeans and let her paddled bare butt burn into the sheets as she'd brought herself off multiple times, each time submitting with heartfelt deference to his authority.

"Are you seeing anyone right now?" Curtis asked.

"No, I'm single," she said, pleased he'd asked.

She'd gone through two boyfriends. Both had held her tight, kissed her right and fucked her to perfection, but she craved them to command her in the richest way. She needed them to caress her and tease her, but also to bend her and beat her when required. She couldn't ask outright for hard spankings, and she didn't wish to get a reputation.

Curtis smiled. He couldn't help it. It confirmed his research. A single Carly was a perfect Carly. He'd admired her across the negotiating table. When he'd proposed the paddle to settle the dispute between Isla and her teammates, Carly had snapped up the solution and bent with respect. He replayed her every movement in his dreams. Isla had obeyed him that day, but Carly had bent her body with the utmost deference and even implored him to swat her harder. He couldn't help hardening at the memory.

"You don't harbor any resentment about me giving you a good thrashing?" He asked. It did nothing to relieve his aroused state.

"I deserved it," she said, her sex clenching at her admission. "I'd been a bitch. An aching bottom for a week was just what I deserved. My teammates didn't mind either. Both said you'd laid it on hard and we all respect you for not letting us off with a token effort. You're an outstanding mediator."

"Thank you. Isla was sullen with me afterwards. I don't think she minded getting paddled as much as not knowing beforehand."

"Silly girl." She'd even implied to Isla she should shag him, to thank him.

"We're stuck together for two hours so this might be a huge mistake," he said. "Sorry if I make you uncomfortable, but would you go out with me?"

She couldn't believe her luck. He liked her. She'd hoped he might. She'd feared him in her dreams and fancied him every time she'd looked at his powerful paddling arm in class or on campus. Glancing across at his rock hard thigh in blue jeans, she tapped her turn signal to shift lanes and her sex swept her little VW past the blue saloon, her eyes glued to the road.

He twisted to look at her.

She accelerated. He was making her uncomfortable alright, hot and damp in her panties. "I already am, aren't I?"

"Today doesn't count. You're driving me home. Don't be flippant."

His sharp rebuke delighted her. She'd been glib with his crucial question. His tough response was all it should be.

"Yes, I'd love to go out with you." She grinned.

"You know it's tough to ask a girl out," he said.

"Why? We want it."

"It feels awful if you get shot down."

"That's being a man."

"You shouldn't have been flippant," he said, his tone toughening.

She'd been playful, but maybe not as respectful as his direct question deserved. It was delicious to be asked out, twice as sweet, when she wished it. "Sorry."

"I'm not a pushover," he said. "I'd do anything for you. But I must warn you I have a hard side. One, you've already experienced."

She'd experienced his hard side, alright. She'd painted every masturbational fantasy with it.

"I'm going to punish you for being flippant," he said. He hadn't been strict enough with Isla in their early days. Bringing out his hard side later had led to friction getting her to accept it.

"I was trying to keep the atmosphere light to protect us both," she said, "but my cheeky reply was unkind. I loved you asking and I appreciate the direct question. Too many guys fumble it. Sorry."

"A stinging bottom all the way home will improve your respect."

His hard words rumbled through her head and soaked her panties. He hadn't relented. They'd been going out for less than two miles and he'd asserted control.

"When we stop for lunch. First, I'm going to kiss you," he warned, "then I'm going to whip you."

She tilted her head towards him and smiled. "After we've eaten."

They'd picked up sandwiches, his crusty roll loaded with meat, hers with Italian beef and sweet peppers. The VW's sat nav guided them to a picnic area three miles from the freeway. Midweek, only two other cars had pulled into the pleasant spot above the fast-flowing river. Surrounded by towering oaks and maples, they sat on a rustic picnic table, their feet on the bench, and watched a couple arguing in their station wagon and a businessman having a coffee break several tables away. He raised his thermos cup to them and they waved back.

"Awesome car," Curtis said, gesturing towards her VW Golf parked below them as he bit into his meat feast.

"There were three on the leasing company's website available for immediate delivery. That was the smallest."

"Spoken like a total girl," he grinned.

"I am one."

"You're beautiful, Carly."

Putting down the remains of his sandwich, he leaned in and kissed her.

His lips stole her sex. It roared, rejoicing in the conclusive proof she'd done its bidding. Squeezing her legs together, she basked in the intoxicating power of his desire. Breaking for essential air, she whispered, "I said after we'd eaten."

"And I ignored you." he grinned.

"Ignore me again," she murmured.

This time she parked her sex in the corner and her heart filled with joy at being kissed by him in front of anyone who cared to watch. Her lips half an inch from his, she said, "I deserve my whipping. It will sting while I drive and punish me for my stupid response. But I want to know something. Be honest. Does it turn you on?"

"Yes."

"Good, me too." She slammed her lips into his.

He couldn't believe she'd forced stark honesty out of him and in return given the same. Offering his hand, he helped her down from the table, and they tidied away their wrappers and bottles into the trash. Taking her hand, he said, "Let's walk."

The forest near the picnic area was sparse, but became dense as they veered off the track and ventured amongst the trees and shrubs.

Following him deeper into the forest, her sex lunged from pure pleasure to purring at his perfection. He hadn't sought her acceptance. He'd announced her punishment and assumed her compliance. His powerful authority delivered delicious delight as she stepped through into a slight clearing only wide enough for two tree stumps and space to walk around them.

Turning to her he said, "I accept your explanation that you were trying to keep the atmosphere light and playful to protect us both. But I'm going to punish you for your glib response so you never get the idea I will go easy on you."

"I'm sorry," she said. Regret ran through her. She had been protecting herself and them both, but it had been unnecessary. He'd posed a direct question. It had deserved a formal response.

She watched as he broke a switch off a tree on his right, like it was there for his convenience. With swift and efficient movements, he stripped it of twigs, smoothed it between his hands, and flicked it hard.

The sharp whistle cut right through her as he commanded, "Drop your jeans."

She pushed her tight black denim down to her knees, displaying her scarlet string bikini panties. It wasn't how she'd envisioned a boyfriend seeing her panties for the first time, but the intense humility matched her dreams. Her white vest top and black bra complimented her bright panties.

"Nice," he said. "They match your stunning jacket."

Delighted he'd noticed, she smiled. The scarlet silk lining of her soft black leather jacket teased onlookers when she walked. She enjoyed knowing it sometimes offered a secret hint at her matching panties.

"But we're not here to admire your stylishness. Your flippant response was disrespectful."

Pointing at the stump nearest him, he said, "Bend over."

She shuffled forward, her knees only just above the stump, and bent right over, placing her palms on the flat surface. The slight breeze emphasized the scant coverage of her proud panties.

"You had honest intentions, so twelve strokes will suffice."

She didn't care how many or how hard. Bending for a whipping was a solid start to their relationship. Obedience flooded her sex as the trim switch rested against her cotton.

Flying through trees on a zip wire adventure day with her classmates; the cable above her head had whistled all the way. The same sound behind her lasted an instant before a fine line of fire exploded across her cheeks. She remained dead still as the heat burned into her bottom.

The switch whipped into her cotton, biting through the feeble protection with fierce fire. Each stroke was worse as the thin stick flexed hard into her soft skin and the burn built. She thought of the risk he'd taken, asking her out while stuck together in the car for hours. Respect and pleasure burst through her body. He'd taken a grave risk because he wanted her.

"Curtis," she said. Maintaining her position, she reached back, slid her fingers into the strings of her panties, and whisked them down to join her jeans. "I'm sorry."

Respect exploded from his heart. It was a deep gesture of remorse, which he'd honor. They'd never been naked together, and she'd chosen now to humble herself further. He lashed the switch in hard and cracked it across her bare flesh.

The ruthless stroke ripped satisfaction into her heart as it tore across her bare behind. His tough response to her honest gesture made her proud. As pain whipped into her skin, she embraced it, celebrating his guts and confidence. Fiery pain erupted as the switch taught her his values. Every surge of hurt bound them tighter. He'd kept it kind. He hadn't whipped her low where it would teach her a serious lesson or thrashed her thighs, but she'd have accepted both without a murmur.

"Get up," he commanded.

She rose and sat on the stump, enduring the hard wood against her sensitive skin. Unlacing her sneakers, she shoved off her jeans and panties.

He watched her rip her vest top over her head and undo her black bra, dropping both on the other stump. Stark naked, she approached him, reached up and kissed him, her lips delivering the same firm message as her bare breasts pressed against his blue shirt.

She felt his hands ripping open his jeans as she squeezed her body against his. His urgent need throbbed her soaking sex. When he released her lips, she dropped her hands to her sides and said, "Thank you for whipping me."

Her humble words forced his white shorts to the forest floor, his manhood aimed hard at her. He pushed her down onto a bed of leaves and spongy earth. Spreading her legs with his knee, he entered her, taking her breath with every inch of his hardness. His solid strokes took her pleasure to the verge as the soft earth cooled her sting.

"You needed whipping," he grunted as he held her on the precipice of pleasure.

"And you didn't hesitate. Thank you," she moaned.

He came hard, digging her bare bottom into the dent they'd made as she burst into a flurry of orgasms. Luscious, native pleasure rushed through her body as she settled into the ground and he rolled onto his back beside her.

Hours later, she dropped off her shiny new boyfriend, having begun the journey without one, and headed away from the confusing streets around his family home. Their sudden, powerful relationship had left her high on excitement. She passed straight through the stop sign at a junction she wasn't expecting to a blast of police siren from the marked car behind her.