« Spanking Stories

Anya scrolled the seventy-two-thousand comments. She'd read two hundred. Her powerful reconciliation with Jasmine had thrilled girls on every continent. Zain's news empire delivered gripping news everywhere. She'd called to congratulate Jasmine on the story's spectacular success, and they'd chatted for over an hour.

With Jasmine's blessing, Zain had called her three-weeks ago. 'We've met under extraordinary circumstances, but I like you, Anya'. His opening phrase had kept her heart warm, his confident phone manner as stimulating as his commanding stance behind the cane.

He'd been leaving for India, where he owned a satellite TV station. The three-week wait for their inevitable date was excellent news for her recovering bottom.

She shoved aside the case files on her desk. Due to arrive home yesterday, he hadn't called her. It wasn't unreasonable. Media magnates had empires to run and seventy-two-thousand comments were only for one article.

Her phone challenged her presumption. His message read 'Friday night barbecue dinner at the beach?'

She confirmed. A barbecue date tonight appealed, but her nearest beach was a ninety-minute drive. His next message was an instruction. 5.30pm and three words after it, divided by dots. She pored over it. She wouldn't ask him to explain, she'd figure it out. It was obvious he expected her to manage.

She tapped 'three words divided by dots' into her phone. It inundated her with eager explanations on the use of ellipsis. Refining her search to 'three words', she struck gold. 'what3words - The simplest way to talk about location'.

Downloading the What3Words app, she entered her words with their two dots. The map zoomed into downtown. Unless sand had slipped from the sky while she'd been sleeping, no beaches existed downtown. She stretched her fingers to zoom the screen and smiled.

Anya's brisk pace covered the distance from her apartment to the downtown heliport in six minutes. She'd finished work early to change into her jeans, butterfly blouse and flat white sneakers. Festooned with pastel colored butterflies in flight, the light gray v-neck blouse hung loose over her pale-blue cropped skinny jeans.

The glass doors slid apart as she approached the heliport entrance. Her map pin hovered over the blonde behind the heliport reception.

"Anya?" the blonde asked.

The warm greeting was conclusive proof she'd passed his test.

"This way, please."

The girl escorted her onto the concrete apron. A white Sikorsky 76 crouched, blades spinning. Instinct drove her to duck as they neared the helicopter's rear door.

Twisting in his seat, the co-pilot pointed to her headset as the blond secured her door. Sweeping her long black hair over her shoulder, she settled the cups on her ears.

"Hi, Anya," the co-pilot said.

"Hi."

"Our flight time is fifteen minutes to the coast. You'll get breathtaking views as we depart over downtown."

"Thank you," she beamed. This didn't happen every Friday, but it felt like it should.

She paralleled skyscrapers as the helicopter lifted, revealing the entire city basking in afternoon sunshine. They swept over areas she recognized. From her bird's-eye view, they appeared closer and smaller. They flew above the freeway choked with queuing cars waiting to escape the city. Zain didn't view the landscape like others and she didn't care.

"We'll land in two minutes, miss," the pilot said. They'd both remained silent during the flight. She'd appreciated the space to reflect. They circled above the coast, passing a magnificent, white, modern mansion. The nose lifted as the helicopter lost speed, passed over the beach and settled on the vast green lawn.

Hunkering beneath the spinning blades, the uniformed co-pilot released her door. In a semi-crouch, she held her hair as she ran towards the tall, handsome man bent over a stone barbecue beside the beach. Zain. In dark blue jeans and a mint-green shirt, he looked normal. If she ignored the enormous property, beachside location, and the helicopter, he could be anybody.

They had to wait to speak as the helicopter departed, its downdraft buffeting her blouse.

"Right on schedule," Zain said, flipping the steaks.

"You left me little choice." She grinned. "Genius location app."

"It's incredible, isn't it? Accurate to nine feet."

"Nobody has ever summoned me with such precision."

"How do you prefer your steak cooked?"

"Medium well, please." She gazed across the crystal blue waters. "This is sublime."

Twisting, she peered at the glass frontage of the modern mansion. "You must have an extensive staff."

"Ten," he said. "But they won't disturb us."

She glanced at the laid table, white tablecloth, and silver cutlery. She'd imagined sitting on the sand dunes, but then she hadn't imagined Zain.

He served the steaks onto plates prepared with crisp green salad and juicy tomatoes. Placing the plates on the table, he said, "I hope you're hungry."

"You bet," she said, taking her wooden chair. Sumptuous gray cushions made her beachside seat beyond luxurious.

Their conversation covered India. Their culture and his recent trip provided common ground. He expanded on how his TV station was benefitting from the rest of his Dispatch News empire. She could talk business with him forever. His sharp insights drove simple conversation.

While he carried their plates to the house, she watched a young couple wandering the shoreline, holding hands. He nudged her towards the sea and the girl shrieked as the waves lapped her feet, rushing into his arms. Her closest girlfriends were in strong relationships. Clare with Mark, and Jessica with Peter. She swiveled to follow Zain's path back to her, carrying two banana boats, and wondered if it was this simple.

She smiled, and they tucked into their delicious desserts.

He'd watched her observing the shoreline couple. As she'd turned towards him, the remnants of her wistful expression had been unmistakable. Maybe his aspirations weren't mad. He was obsessed by her. He'd admitted it on the phone. But he sought much more than meaningless sex.

Anya licked her lips. The sweet sensation of banana boats laden with mint chocolate, honey, and vanilla ice cream resonated in her mouth and mind.

Finished before him, she pushed back her chair and sauntered to the lawn edge. Bordered by neat beach grass, lush green lawn turned to golden sand running into the azure sea. Watching strangers and distant ships, she relaxed. His powerful arms wrapped around her. The male heat through her cotton blouse pulsed into her sex and head. She let his arms envelope her.

"I'm enjoying our first date," she whispered. "It's odd to feel so happy when you've bent me over a dining table, lifted my school skirt and given me four severe punishment canings."

Against her firm cheeks, she felt him harden. The rock-solid proof of his interest sustained her confidence, and she pushed back into him. He still wanted her, even after he'd learned about her bullying past. She must have attractive qualities. "I appreciated your strict authority and I may need it again."

"Your beautiful submission was irresistible. Your infinite humility in front of Jasmine was breathtaking and thrilled me."

He ran his hot fingers from her delicate neckline, brushing the side of her breast, sending shivers of uncontrollable pleasure down the length of her spine.

"I'm not afraid of true submission. I just prefer it with a man."

"Would you enjoy obeying me this evening, knowing it must hurt?"

His hard tone and conviction clenched her sex. "Depends what you have planned," she whispered.

It didn't. She craved his dominance, however it came. Bending on his command for formal discipline had consumed her masturbation evenings, the ever sorer marks on her bottom binding her to his firm hand.

"Something is starting here," he said, "and I'm powerless to stop it."

She said nothing.

He'd offered her a chance to deny the obvious, and she'd remained tight in his arms, watching the ocean. "You're irresistible, Anya. But when you stumble, expect me to punish you."

"Thank you," she replied, breathless at his utter command of her sex with only his stern manner and fervent promise.

Nuzzling her neck, he said, "I'm willing to bet you're so good at your job that if I asked you to list your mistakes, you'd struggle."

Warm in his arms, she considered her busy week, the horizon disappearing with the sunset. He was right. It had gone well.

He turned her to face him and planted his hard kiss on her lips. The speed of his acquisition left her heart behind as she lost herself in the intensity of his desire. Pulled against his hardness, her sex dripped into her cotton panties.

Breaking for breath, he caressed her cheek. His tender touch blended with his hardness into a rich promise of the perfect man.

"Lets imagine you typed in your three words without care. I imagine you didn't."

She nodded. She hadn't. But pleasure at her imagined error and its consequences dampened her panties. Beneath her skinny jeans, she had string bikini panties in baby blue. She'd chosen them for cuteness. He'd only seen her in white cotton school panties. She'd known he could strip her tonight with only the heat of his gaze, and they were way beyond that.

"You'd have kept my pilots waiting and our steaks would have burned."

"I'd expect your firmest discipline," she said, immersed in his train of thought.

"Thats what I hoped. How late might you have been? Ten minutes? Thirty? A full hour?"

Her sex screamed to be condemned to the worst. "An hour. I'm very sorry."

She stared down between them, choosing his chest over his gaze as her imagined guilt swamped her in shame.

Thrilled she'd accepted the hardest option, he released her and ordered, "Come with me."

She admired his powerful physique in shirt and jeans. His hard, naked body would control hers until dawn.

Walking towards his modern mansion, he said, "We're playing a powerful game with meaningful consequences. I presume you're staying overnight. If I've misjudged the situation, please say."

She slipped her slim palm into his huge hand. His firm grip pulsed power through her core and answered for her. "Zain, you're about to punish me. Don't go easy. We'll sleep together unless you're not into me and in the morning we'll have breakfast."

"I'm into you," he said, "and who promised breakfast?"

Stepping through the sliding glass onto white marble washed through with traces of light gray, silver patterned inner walls accented the white outer walls, reflecting the light. He led her past the silver couches and jet-black grand piano to the elevator. Waiting open, it whisked them to the third floor.

His bed offered a sea view unobstructed by a glass wall on his balcony. She kicked off her flat white sneakers and let her bare feet eat up the warm gray wood floorboards.

Exploring his en-suite bathroom, she almost fainted in wonder. The heated white marble floor opened into an oasis of pleasure. Double sinks below a wall of mirrors reflected the glassed-in shower room with two massive rainfall heads. Sunk into marble, a magnificent white bath lapped up the sea view accompanied by a silver cushioned seat decorated by red accent cushions. She imagined him sat watching her while she soaped her long slim legs in the inevitable bubbles. Turning back to the rear wall, she entered the frosted glass to the toilet itself.

Zain kneeled next to the trunk against his bedroom wall and rolled the combination. Lifting the brushed aluminium lid, he left it open on its pistons. He'd commissioned it to contain his discipline implements. He'd never felt more comfortable revealing his toys to anyone.

She padded up behind him and peered over his shoulder.

"Choose one," he said, standing to let her examine his treasure chest.

He watched her flex a black riding crop and return it to the trunk before slapping a round leather paddle into her soft palm. Extracting a slim straight yellow cane, she stood and handed it to him.

He smiled. The slender rod would inflict a serious lesson, nothing like the punishment cane he'd used on her at Jasmine's house.

"I like the cane," she said. "Its precise pain teaches an intense lesson. I guess you've felt it."

"Yes. I grew up like you. It taught me manners, and it's going to teach you."

"Thank you," she said, adopting a meek manner.

His heart wrenched from him, firing towards the honest girl prepared to admit a sound thrashing entranced her.

"I'm sorry I was late, Zain."

"I'm sure you are. But it's intolerable. Eight strokes."

She nodded. The cane hurt. She'd suffer for their game, but it felt real. "Thank you."

Her submissive response drove him rock solid. She stroked his hardness through his jeans and stared deep into his dark-brown eyes. Catching her glance towards the ocean, he said, "Only I can see you. It's one-way glass."

She relaxed and stood where he positioned her.

"Remove your jeans," he commanded.

His sudden shift to a ruthless order rammed her fingers to her waist. She shoved her jeans down, sending thrills through her slim bare legs as she leaned on the bed and eased them over each foot, revealing her baby blue string bikini panties.

"Your blouse is beautiful. Lose it."

His authority plunged damp pleasure into her panties as she unbuttoned her butterfly blouse and dropped it to the floor. In her matching bra and panties, she stood before him, proud to obey.

"An hour late is disgraceful," he roared.

She'd admired the thick internal doors. She doubted the staff could hear her scolding, but the idea delivered delicious shame as his powerful voice funneled into her sex and blasted native heat around her body.

"Bend over." He tapped the bed with the cane.

She obeyed, placing her hands on the low silver covers and lowering herself onto her forearms. Her bottom presented high by the low bed, heat thrust through her core at her delicious exposure.

Zain's cane scorched fury across her skimpy cotton panties, blazing a sharp line of intense discipline. She pictured typing her three words, watching them become malformed in her mind. The vicious crack of the cane matched the scalding heat on her cheeks as she hissed to handle the hurt.

"Latest is rudeness," he scolded.

She seized on his scolding. Her slack attitude should hurt. The cane sliced heat into her skin. Pain shot across her bottom as his fierce stroke added to her mix. Her agony escalated in parallel lines of excruciating pain as the rattan seared severe strokes. His commitment to their story packed passion into her heart as she accepted the scorching punishment she deserved.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I know you are."

She cherished his tender tone.

"You have two strokes to go."

His savage dominance cut right through her. His cane touched the delicate crease where her smooth bottom met her slender thighs. "You'll feel these tomorrow, as you should."

Her fierce heart adored his unfettered dominance. He hadn't given her a vote. She must take her punishment.

Agonizing heat burst into her soft skin. She tensed and panted as soaring fire rushed back and forth across her lower bottom. Steeped in respect, she stayed still, awaiting his last stroke. He hadn't wavered an inch from his commitment. The cane rubbed her pristine flesh just above her fresh fire.

"Be on time," he ordered.

The rattan stung ferocious heat, completing its pattern of acute pain on her punished backside.

"You may stand."

She struggled up from the low bed, her bottom begging her not to move and her heart praising her.

"Thank you for caning me," she said, meeting his gaze. "I deserved it."

He dropped the cane on the floor and swept her into his arms. Depositing her on the bed, he discarded his clothes, never giving up her gaze as she thrust her hand into her panties and circled her clit in front of him.

"I bet you need that," he said, kneeling on the bed beside her.

"Fuck, yes," she yelled.

He ripped down her panties while she continued her pleasure and released her bra, letting her dispose of it as he slid his huge manhood into her. Her sex relaxed to let him take her, gripping his girth as his vigorous strokes commanded her.

"I was a disgraceful girl who needed caning."

"Yes, you were." He groaned, driving his manhood deep inside her sex.

"You thrashed me," she cried as he blasted his need.

His pleasure exploded and drove her into the pillows as her hips bucked. She screamed his name as his ruthless control released a tidal wave of utter bliss, overwhelming her with surges of ever more stunning pleasure.

Scooting up the bed, they crawled under the quilt, and he held her.

"I'm powerless to stop this," he warned.

A phenomenal grin exploded across her face and she whispered, "So am I."