« Spanking Stories

"Mix me a Mojito," Jasmine called, as Anya crossed the patio from the sun lounger in her full school uniform. Her smart black blazer and pleated, red plaid school skirt helped her feel her honest subservience. Pausing, she faced her temporary boss and said, "Yes, Miss."

Jasmine had become used to Anya's flawless responses and exemplary execution. Having a maid at her beck and call had distinct advantages. She'd given her cleaner the whole week off on full pay and kept Anya occupied with tedious tasks. But her school nemesis had proven her point. She believed every bone in Anya's body was sorry. Delicate bones, they were too.

In full school uniform, the stunning girl had served her whims for four days with zero attitude. She struggled to believe this obedient girl had plagued her memories until seven days ago. She'd often pictured tormenting her cruel antagonist. But when Anya had sunk to her knees in supplication, the genuine gesture of deep remorse had stripped away her anger.

Anya placed a tall collins glass on the kitchen counter, her bottom still blazing from her fourth morning caning. She'd bent over the dining table and received six unrelenting strokes of Zain's thick punishment cane. Preparing for her morning punishment during the drive over, her aching bottom had protested on the seat. In her memory she heard Jasmine's protests as she hoisted her onto the wrought-iron railing by her white cotton school panties. The pretty girl had represented serious competition she couldn't tolerate. Keeping her in a state of fear had decimated her power with boys. She'd decided however hard Zain caned her, no protest would ever leave her lips.

Her phone with Mojito instructions leaned against the bag of white sugar. Using a rolling pin, she'd muddled the lime juice, sugar and mint leaves, allowing the leaves to release their sweet taste without bashing them. Adding rum and stirring, she poured the mixture, added crushed ice from the ice machine in the huge fridge unit, and decorated the top with spare mint leaves.

Proud of her performance, she presented the cocktail to Jasmine and placed it on the table beside her sun lounger. Waiting on Jasmine with grace delivered a healthy dose of shame to her soul. She'd been a dreadful bully. Showcasing the decent girl she'd become was all she yearned for this week. Her burning backside provided pleasant, penitent company.

Sipping her Mojito, Jasmine spat it on the ground. "What do you call that?"

Fear coursed through Anya's veins as she gathered the full glass.

"Stand there," Jasmine snapped.

She seized the punishment cane Zain had left for her use.

Anya didn't react. Yesterday she'd got caned across her thighs. One cruel stroke because she hadn't fastened her blazer button. Cleaning before lunch, she'd neglected to button her blazer before serving.

Blazing fire burst into her bare thighs as the rattan rod seared Jasmine's disgust where it stung and showed. Tears formed from the acute pain and profound guilt. Her substandard cocktail was an utter disgrace. "I'm sorry, Miss."

"Mix it again. I expect perfection or you'll touch your toes on this terrace for six strokes."

Uncertain where she'd gone awry, Anya studied her instructions again in the kitchen as her welted thighs roared in agony. Her beaten butt stung with blazing pain, and now the fresh stroke across her thighs added to her public shame.

Starting fresh, she mixed the cocktail, repeating the process with acute measurements, muddling the mixture with extraordinary care. She grabbed a measuring jug, and checking the recipe, added the exact amount of crushed ice. The result looked identical to her eye.

Fearful of six fierce strokes on her punished bottom or bare thighs, she bowed and presented the cocktail with panache, praying her attitude might count in her favor if Jasmine caned her.

"MMh. Delicious," Jasmine said.

Relieved, Anya stood back.

"The previous Mojito was also sublime," Jasmine said. "But you never treated me with fairness, did you, Anya?"

Impressed by Jasmine's clever cruelty, a slight smile creased Anya's face. She'd bought her boss's performance and had wracked her brains hunting for her non-existent error. Having packed personal passion into her cocktail construction, the evil lesson proved Jasmine deserved to be her teacher.

"I deserved that," Anya said, and she meant every word.

Jasmine glanced at her laptop screen, balanced on a white towel over her slim bare legs in the sun. Her latest article was one thousand words. Two hours of mid-morning sunshine had tumbled into words like white water rapids. She tapped the keyboard, changed the working title and increased the font size. 'How to Vanquish Your Bully' would be magnetic clickbait. Her editor would love the result, but remain unaware who'd written it. She'd show it to Zain. Let him give it to her editor, unattributed but with publisher approval.

Wooden Floors mopped and carpets vacuumed, Anya was storing the lightweight black vacuum in the cleaning cupboard when her phone vibrated. Tucked into her waistband, she extracted it, swiping the one-word message, 'Come'. Rushing through the kitchen, she checked her blazer button, went outside, and approached Jasmine's sun lounger.

Beside Jasmine's lounger, a low, square teak stool had appeared.

"Sit," Jasmine said, pointing towards the stool.

"Yes, Miss," Anya said.

Sweeping her school skirt beneath her burning bottom, she perched on the low teak and slanted her legs. The agony of sitting on her beaten bottom shocked her. She'd been positive it would hurt, but the intense sting of today's fresh strokes singed her seat as her weight forced her welts into the teak.

Jasmine gave her the sleek silver laptop. "Read that."

She hurt as she read, and her tears streamed. The story described how bullying had bled fear into Jasmine's heart, disrupted her career and suppressed her love life. Simmering anger at becoming a victim had compromised her confidence.

Staring at Jasmine through her tears, she said, "I'm so sorry."

"I believe you, Anya. Read on."

The article delivered on its power packed promise. With their identities protected, it revealed she was a powerful lawyer who'd sunk to her knees in sweet supplication before her victim. Capturing the rapid relief in both their souls, Jasmine's words forced her to root for both protagonist and victim.

"It's gripping," she said.

"Thank you."

"Will you publish it?"

"Not under my name. Nobody deserves to know our identities."

"Thank you," Anya said.

"Stand up," Jasmine commanded.

Anya handed back the laptop and stood, her arms by her sides.

"My home is spotless," Jasmine said. "Thank you. You haven't blinked once. Your utter obedience has earned my respect. It's over."

"You mean finished?"

"Yes Anya. I forgive you."

Anya's shoulders slumped and her head fell forward, "Thank you."

Raising her eyes, she met Jasmine's gaze. "It was an honor."

"I believe you," Jasmine smiled. "Help me conclude my article. Explain why you feared me. I was never a threat to you."

Anya sat. The pain no longer mattered. "I wanted every boy to fancy me. You were prettier. I didn't rationalize it, but my response to competition was pathetic."

"Oh dear," Jasmine said. "And which boys did I steal from you?"

"None of them."

"Do you think because you bullied me they lost interest?"

"I suppose so."

"Anya, you're a brilliant lawyer. You eviscerated my court order. But you're blind. I was never competition to you. I'm gay."

Anya stared at Jasmine, her mouth wide open.

"Close your mouth," Jasmine grinned.

"Sorry. It's just. Well, you hid it well."

"Surrounded by pretty girls, I realized I felt things they didn't. I had to learn to read girls and handle my emotions."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Some short-term pleasure, but I'm not comfortable advertising my sexuality."

"I'm so sorry. I've been a stupid, ignorant little bitch."

"You were, but this week you've exemplified the greatness of human dignity. I've treated you like crap and you haven't batted an eyelid."

"Thank you. Did you fancy me at school?"

Jasmine nodded.

"How could you fancy a selfish bully?"

"You're beautiful Anya. At school you had poise and elegance. Your attention pleased me, even though it was hateful. I was still learning to understand my feelings."

"I'm not gay," Anya said, "but I appreciate beautiful women and admit I've sometime fantasized about them."

Jasmine grinned. "I had to resolve the difference between liking and loving girls."

Anya returned her smile. The severe punishments Jasmine had meted out to her had provoked intense masturbation evenings. The powerful dynamic between them still made her feel obliged to please Jasmine, but she also craved naked truth between them.

"Please, may I make love to you?" Anya asked.

Jasmine sat forward and placed her laptop on the side table. Clasping Anya's hand in her own, she said, "For one afternoon only, I'd love your generous offer. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Anya said, the warmth of Jasmine's fingers delighting her compliant sex.

Anya stood in her school uniform, and Jasmine rose beside her.

"In your uniform, this will be a particular pleasure," Jasmine whispered.

Anya smiled. "I've been admiring your bikini all week."

The master bedroom's atrium windows overlooked the pool. Immaculate cream carpet surrounded a chocolate colored silk bed. Glancing for any flaws, Anya realized it wasn't her job anymore. She'd admired the tasteful decor while she'd been cleaning.

Jasmine laid on the chocolate bed covers in her black bikini and smiled.

Anya slipped off her blazer, laid it on an armchair, and climbed onto the bed. Honoring the beauty which had once challenged her, she kissed Jasmine's lips. Grazing them with a light pass, she returned to deliver passionate heat to the generous girl. Keeping her in strict submission had been a generous gift, granting her the priceless chance to achieve true forgiveness.

Jasmine responded. Her sex raged with pleasure at the intensity of Anya's kiss. It fulfilled her forever dream. She ran her fingers under Anya's plaid school skirt, tracing the contours of her white cotton panties and the solid ridges planted there by the heavy cane.

"I admire your guts, taking such severe strokes of the heavy cane."

"It was just. Meeting your gaze while Zain beat me was tough, but I cherished the challenge."

"Does it hurt real bad?"

"Yes," Anya gasped. "It's agony. Did you tell him how hard to cane me?"

"No. I left it up to him."

"He was fair," Anya moaned, as Jasmine's leg pushed against her soaking sex.

Anya's fingers dropped to her waist.

"Let me," Jasmine cried.

Anya ran her hands under Jasmine's bikini top, skimming her rock hard nipples as she felt her skirt cast aside.

"I always imagined you in school panties," Jasmine panted.

"It's my pleasure to comply," Anya whispered as she plucked the string to release Jasmine's bikini top.

Jasmine pressed her pert nipples into Anya's palms as her schoolgirl crush teased her and ran her fingers inside the girl's white cotton panties.

Anya moaned as Jasmine pleasured her. Her breasts constrained in her blouse and bra, her nipples demanded the same serious treatment as her clit. She dropped beside Jasmine and unbuttoned her blouse. Jasmine eased it from her shoulders and undressed her breasts. Gentle fingers on her hard nubs thrust her clit against Jasmine's hand. Powered to pleasure by the prettier girl, she begged, "Please"

Held in sweet abeyance, desperate for closure and determined to remain denied, Anya kept begging while Jasmine balanced her on the precipice of female pleasure.

Jasmine kissed her again, forcing respect through her lips so hard Anya believed in her forgiveness. Soft circles of the girl's firm finger flooded her with cascading orgasms. Pleasure plunged through her core, driving bliss into her sex as she grasped for every drop. Sated, she lay in her white cotton panties, pleasured by the girl who'd kept her obedient for four entire days.

"Please, let me," Anya cried. "That was beyond beautiful."

She rolled and pressed Jasmine into the bed. Lowering herself down the pretty girl's body, she swept away her black bikini bottoms and buried her face between Jasmine's legs. Her honest tongue teased the intimate folds of the girl she owed for her forgiveness. Tasting Jasmine's pleasure, she tongued her clit with urgency. Feeling the building explosion, she kept her trembling on the brink of terminal pleasure.

Sliding her fingers under Jasmine's bare bottom, she grasped her cheeks, drawing the girl's clit firm against her tongue and swept her over the edge. Jasmine thrust her sex into Anya's face as she came hard, pulsing pleasure in wild abandon.

Returning to the chocolate colored pillows, Anya kissed the naked girl.

The taste of herself from the schoolgirl she'd once feared delivered Jasmine ultimate release as perfect joy washed over her.

Released from all guilt, Anya curled up and Jasmine held her.

"I haven't converted you, have I?" Jasmine grinned.

"No," Anya laughed. "But you were awesome. I'll treasure this intimacy. Is Zain single?"

"Four days is a record," Jasmine said. "Most girls ask within a minute."

"I've been a little busy," Anya murmured.

"Every girl likes Zain, but he's difficult to please."

"I won't go near him if it bothers you."

Jasmine grinned. "He said the same thing."

Anya lifted her head. "He asked about me?"

"On the phone last night. I think you'd be wonderful together."