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"And she let you off the speeding ticket?" Clare asked.

This corner of the Canary Bar, near FMI's office, was discreet. An ideal place for after-work gossip. Avoiding the popular cocktails, Rebecca had chosen house white for them both.

"I wouldn't have let her whip me if she wasn't," Rebecca said. "It was jeans down for a full fifty strokes of the switch. It stung all night and my legs were sensitive against my suit pants most of the week."

"Did you like it?"

"Escaping the ticket was the real benefit, but having an officer in uniform haul me out of my car and whip me for an official offense was thrilling," Rebecca grinned.

"You've been remembering it, haven't you?" Clare demanded.

"A little."

The blatant lie fooled neither of them, and Clare grinned. "I wouldn't mind meeting this Melody."

"Glad you asked. She's working nights at the moment, so Saturday morning coffee at the Charles Hotel."

The Charles Hotel coffee lounge was a simple walk for Rebecca, further for Clare and next to where Melody's suburban train arrived. The waiter placed white china cups in front of Rebecca and Clare and a plate of pastries on the table. Pouring them both a black coffee, he left behind the tall silver carafe.

"Hello," Melody said, taking in Clare as well in her welcome as she slid into the curved corner alcove next to Rebecca.

In a pastel blue summer frock, the pretty police officer looked a lot less intimidating.

"So you're the Angel who gave Rebecca the whipping she deserved," Clare opened.

"No hard feelings?" Melody asked, looking at Rebecca.

"No. None. I deserved it and you were good to me." Her nipples hardened in approval and her sex clenched. The memory of the uniformed police officer whipping her in the woods with a fresh switch had been a regular companion ever since.

"See," Melody said to Clare. "A good idea, well executed."

Clare grinned. "Inspired."

She'd challenged the girl to see how she stood up, and the confident and comfortable response delighted her. Rebecca had given her background on Melody and told her the girl didn't have the guts to tell her husband she visited Miss Roberts or ask him to punish her. It wasn't a problem she had. But if she hadn't read discipline stories on her work laptop and got the cane over Mark's desk, she didn't know if she'd have brought up the subject with him either. Without his firm command, their relationship would never have started, let alone lasted.

They both asked Melody about her job and found police work more fascinating than they'd imagined.

"Have you punished anyone else?" Rebecca asked

"No," Melody said. "But I wish I could. It would cut down the paperwork."

"Not if it became the law," Clare said. "I bet they'd make the entire process much more convoluted."

"True. I imagine it would be fearsome, formal and painful as hell," Melody said, "but I wouldn't resent getting caned or paddled if I broke the law."

"But you don't get it from your husband," Clare said.

"No." She didn't mind that Rebecca had shared this with Clare. She liked the confident girl, and they were all Angels. "I have to book in with Miss Roberts soon. Martin, my husband, is going away in two weeks and I deserve the cane."

"What for?" Rebecca asked.

"I've a nasty habit of interrupting the end of his sentences. With my job, I'm used to being in charge and it seems to rub off at home. Last night, he got exasperated with me. We didn't speak for an hour before I apologized and ended the nonsense."

"And you still won't tell him you need to be punished?" Rebecca asked.

"I couldn't," Melody said, shaking her head.

"My partner, Mark, punishes me," Clare said.

Rebecca met her gaze. It was a revelation to hear it, but she'd thought it probable.

"How did you make that happen?" Melody asked.

"I didn't," Clare said. "It was an accident." She recounted her reading of discipline stories on her work computer and the situation it had put her in with Mark.

Melody had hoped for clues in Clare's story. Something to help her talk to Martin without sounding strange. But some girls had all the luck.

"What does he think?" she asked Clare.

"What do you mean?"

"Does Mark think you're odd for desiring a firm hand?"

"No. Far from it. Our relationship wouldn't satisfy me any other way."

Melody looked gloomy. "I love Martin. This isn't a fatal problem. But keeping Miss Roberts a secret from him is making me feel dishonest. At first it didn't. It's because for particular things it ought to be him dealing with me."

Clare stared at the melancholy girl. The burden created by her predicament was obvious. Maybe not to her husband, but to a girl it was unmistakable. She glanced at Rebecca. Her friend's caring expression showed she saw it too.

"Why don't I get Mark to teach us all a masterclass? He could explain how he thinks and feels, and why he finds it easy to punish me."

"Oh my god. Would you?" Melody gasped. She'd never expected help from either girl, just a sympathetic ear.

"I don't know if he'll agree, but I'll give it a shot."

The idea of a masterclass had appealed to Mark. When Clare had discussed it with him in bed, his hand had been in her panties. She'd showered him in compliments for his expertise in handling her punishments as he'd brought her to her climax. Desperate to come and desperate for him to agree, she'd begged him to teach this evening's masterclass, and he'd agreed. He wasn't certain why he'd agreed, but passing on knowledge felt right.

Undoing one extra button on his shirt, he examined the effect in the mirror. It was too much and unnecessary. He did it up again. Being asked for advice was a compliment. He'd thought about it in the two days since he'd agreed and concluded a discussion wouldn't do. A practical lesson would fill his female audience with fire.

"That's better," Clare said, coming out of their en-suite, showered and naked.

"You look fabulous," he said.

"Naked? I hope so," she said, "but I'd better put on some clothes."

"Clare," he demanded.

His strict tone tightened her sex. She loved it when he took a tough line with her. Unexpected, the sudden shift in mood was twice as sweet.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You pleaded for tonight, but you must pay a price for it."

His stern words stole her heart. It didn't matter the price he demanded of her. She'd handle it with pride.

"Put on your tight panties."

The instruction pulsed warmth into her clean, damp sex. White bikini panties with vivid pink kisses all over them, he'd given them to her when she'd needed some tough love. A size too small, the constriction was uncomfortable and the bright kisses immature. Several times he'd made her wear them in public. Under her jeans or skirt, the exquisite private punishment was a persistent reminder of his authority, and forced her deepest obedience.

She took them from her lingerie drawer. They lived tucked down the side. Pulling on the uncomfortable panties, she smiled. Under his command, the constriction felt fantastic.

"I'm going to embarrass you a little tonight. It's not a punishment, but the price you must pay for my advice. Rebecca and Melody need to learn how kind I can be, while I'm being hard on you. Wear a white bra and your white see-through beach dress."

She gasped. He was demanding a lot. She didn't just have to surrender to him. She had to be seen to surrender. Having to wear her tight panties was shameful, but having them on display through her dress would bring heavy humiliation.

"Your obedience and embarrassment is what your friends need to see."

Pulling the flimsy, transparent dress over her punishing underwear, its short length left her feeling vulnerable.

"During tonight's lesson, I'll use your obedience to educate your friends."

"Will you spank me?" She didn't know which answer she wanted to hear.

"I'll belt you." He tapped the black leather belt on his smart black slacks. "It will do you good."

Shuddering in shame, she leaned on her chest of drawers to gather herself. He was going to humiliate her and belt her in front of her friends. He should. She'd talked him into this. She'd chosen to ask him when he was pleasuring her, so he'd be unlikely to say no.

Watching her visceral reaction, he feared he'd gone too far. "I realize it's harsh, but describing your obedience can't beat seeing it. Since you urged me to teach this lesson, it should come at a price."

Straightening her back, she spun to face him and dropped her hands by her sides. "I'll pay the price. I'm very sorry."

"What for?" he asked.

"I need to feel sorry for something and I manipulated you into this. Please let me be sorry for that. When the time comes, belt me hard. Don't let them think I get off easy. It wouldn't be kind to any of us."

He smiled. "You're a good girl. Well, you will be."

"Welcome," Clare said, as she closed the penthouse door behind Rebecca and Melody.

In jeans and tops, their eyes raked over her dress. The disparity couldn't be more glaring. She said nothing as she showed them through the open-plan lounge to the couches near the floor-to-ceiling windows, which looked out over the entertainment terrace and city below.

Bending over the low coffee table to pour chilled Chardonnay, her transparent dress pulled tight over her obvious panties. Mark appeared and his imposing presence made her blush. Rising, she took an armchair, grateful for the refuge. Desperate to curl up into it, she instead sat with grace, letting the ultra short dress display her tight white cotton and bright-pink kisses.

Mark introduced himself to Melody and took command of the room.

"Melody, this evening is for you. Ask anything you want. If I don't wish to answer, I'll say so."

"Thank you, Mark. You're very kind."

"Rebecca, I don't suppose I need to point out that this is private."

"No, sir," Rebecca said, finding the form of address natural and useful in conveying her appreciation of the situation.

"I love Clare," Mark said. "Remember that all evening. I told her to put on everything she's wearing. She could have ignored me. But that's the absolute essence of what we're talking about. It's her choice to obey. Miss Roberts doesn't make you visit her, and she doesn't force you to accept painful punishment, but you choose to obey her. It's the same concept."

Melody nodded. Rebecca was in seventh heaven. She wished it was her exposed in a flimsy dress and immature panties.

"Clare, please stand up and lift your dress to your waist."

Proud to be under his command, she obeyed.

"You'll notice Clare's strained panties are uncomfortable. I gave them to her as a present. She only wears them when I require it. She complies because failing to obey upsets her more than the discomfort of the panties. You may sit down, Clare."

Clare returned to her armchair. Her tight panties outlined her sex. Her shameful display of punishing obedience made her sex throb and dampen.

"Melody," Mark said. "This is a hard question, and I expect a full and honest reply."

His stern voice cut through her. She couldn't imagine disobedience.

"Are you turned on right now?"

Her blushing cheeks answered for her, but he waited.

"Yes, Mark. Very much so."

"Is that because you're imagining yourself in Clare's position?"

"Yes," she said, burying her face in her hands.

"Hands down." His voice shot across the room and forced her to uncover her face.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," he said, his tone sympathetic and tender. "If there wasn't pleasure in the ultimate result, I wouldn't punish Clare. It's beautiful to enjoy something you also need."

He looked at Melody and Rebecca. "I don't need to explain to either of you the release from guilt strict punishment gives you. The dilemma for you, Melody, is who delivers it."

Melody nodded.

"You feel awkward about it because it causes you both pleasure and pain, and that hinders you talking to your husband. Martin, isn't it?"

"Yes, Martin."

"Let me tell you what he thinks."

Melody opened her mind to take in every word.

"First, above all, he will respect you. Do you realize how many selfish, self-centered girls there are in the world. Unless he was a monk when you met him, he will have found plenty of them."

Mark was right. Every man worth his salt had a long line of ex-girlfriends, and Martin had commented on their characters and attitudes. There was one who had taken photos of everything for her social media accounts and driven him mad.

"Girls who say sorry are rare. A sore bottom is the ultimate apology. So first and above all, he will respect you."

"I think I realize that deep down," Melody said.

"The layer covering it up is shame about the satisfaction it also brings you."

Melody nodded. It felt true.

"Clare," Mark said. "Are you turned on right now?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Does it diminish your desire to be punished?"

"No. It strengthens it," she said. "I deserve a thrashing for the original reason, and for the pleasure I'm getting as well."

"Thank you," he said. "Melody, what you're missing is that Martin doesn't want to hurt you. No man does. So he needs to know it will bring you pleasure too. While you decline to tell him this, you're robbing him of the one thing which makes him feel okay about giving you a blistering thrashing."

Melody gasped. She'd never considered it in that way.

"Right now," Mark said, "I have to punish Clare. She's sorry for how she pushed me into giving this lesson tonight. I'm not upset about it, but she is. The tactics she employed to get her way were unnecessary, but she did it anyway."

Rebecca was so turned on, her sex was burning in her jeans. The deep obedience radiating off her friend all evening had made her desperate to be the vulnerable girl, exposed and constricted in tight, juvenile panties.

"At this moment, what forces me forward," Mark said, "is the gift I can give Clare, the gift of release from the guilt she feels. Alone, it's not enough, because I still don't want to hurt her. However, because I'm aware, it will turn her on, giving her the gift she wants is something I can't deny her."

Melody registered his words, melting them into her mind. It made so much sense.

"But she's giving me the ultimate gift," Mark said, "her utter submission. It seals the deal. How could any man refuse?"

Melody stared at Clare. "You're so obedient."

"Would you be less obedient?" Clare asked.

"No," Melody panted.

"Clare," Mark commanded, "go to the bedroom and wait for me."

Clare rose, gave both her friends a smile, and went up the glass stairs to their bedroom.

Mark strode from the couches over to the bottom of the stairs. "Come along."

Rebecca shot up. Only just behind her, Melody hoped like hell her soaking sex wouldn't betray her.