« Spanking Stories

Sarah Roberts whispered, "Oh my god." Fallen fire-blackened beams rested on white walls, now tinged black. Blackened wood, fallen roof, and debris from her former home blanketed her stone path, hiding it. She shoved her fists into her tight jeans pockets, her blue sneakers planted on her once flawless front lawn.

Kirsten rested her fingers on Sarah's stressed arm. "Nobody died." Three days ago, she'd received the fire department's shock call at 4pm. A registered keyholder of her friend's home, she'd reported it empty. She'd abandoned dinner prep, grabbing her car keys. Arriving on scene, a devastating wall of fierce heat had pummeled her. She'd stood a distant vigil over Sarah's cherished home as six massive appliances blocked her friend's tree-lined street, shooting oceans of water. Blamed on a careless neighbor's neglected propane torch, flames had consumed five homes. She'd sent Sarah several messages, shattering her friend's first vacation in ten years.

Sarah turned. "I'll never escape this horrifying picture."

"You will. You've already moved on."

Sarah stared at her gutted front room, sun rays falling behind her stricken house. Arriving yesterday, she'd slept at Kirsten's house. She'd spent all morning completing claim paperwork for her insurance company. After lunch, Kirsten's husband, Joe, had transported his old desk from their cellar to her shiny office building, re-assembling it on her cavernous, empty office floor, fifty levels above downtown. Over her desolate desk, her clients' stark experience was unavoidable this week. Perched on her sole furniture, she'd constructed a message in her booking app, providing directions and emailed clients with imminent appointments.

Surveying her wrecked world, she turned to Kirsten. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Telling me." She gestured towards her gutted home. "I couldn't imagine learning this news from anyone else."

Kirsten smiled. "You're welcome."

Sarah rummaged in her shoulder bag. Among her meagre possessions were her car keys. Stored beside her passport, she'd traveled with them. A blessing in disguise. She unlocked her gray Honda. Parked on the street, black soot and minor debris covered its faded paintwork. It was her only remaining connection to George. The home he'd bequeathed her was gone.

Kirsten grinned. "You can't arrive at The Peak covered in black dust."

Studying the car, Sarah said, "Car wash, then shopping. I've nothing to wear." Waving to Kirsten, she drove her poor Honda towards the nearby mall. Meeting Fernando in vacation paradise had proved fortuitous. He'd stepped up, cementing their two-day-old relationship. He'd given her office space. Already a worthy boyfriend, he'd lent her a furnished penthouse at The Peak. His modern luxury living development soared over downtown.

Struck by his generosity, she'd accepted. Instinct had kicked in. She'd asked him to share her borrowed penthouse. They'd skipped right past trivial steps. She'd never expected to tell someone about her business, nor had she dared imagine his extraordinary respect. His property empire spread across the country. Moving made sense for him. He'd accepted her shock proposal, matching her positive spirit. She didn't regret her impetuous offer. He'd called this morning, confirming his arrival in town.

She sensed George's spirit as she drove her now spotless car downtown towards Fernando. It wasn't new when she'd first seen it. Over ten years later, it wasn't any newer. Its steam cleaned cream cloth seats and polished gray paintwork revived her spirits. Her car had recovered from its fire experience. So would she. She'd filled its trunk with rapid, efficient shopping.

Sweeping through the mall, she'd collected underwear, soft cotton comfort, intriguing lace, all small. Two sharp black pant suits and four smart shift dresses, also black, gave her an immediate professional wardrobe. Shoes had frustrated her. Ten pairs discarded, she'd found black flats. Overpriced, they worked, and she had no alternative. Until her house insurance paid out, she'd watch her spending, but keeping her appearance and her business afloat came first. Adding clean Nike sneakers in white, black, and green, she'd tried on jeans, buying three identical pairs. Trying them on, they'd saluted her curves.

Exposing her butt cheeks in the changing room, tiny red dots had proved her recent belting. On vacation, Fernando had laid on his leather hard. Her sex warmed at the memory, shifting into anticipation. He'd promised her the cane. Despite her intervening crisis, he still owed her a serious punishment. Catapulted together by his disarming approval of her unusual business, she'd accepted his offers of help. Raised by herself on the streets, self-reliance beget survival. Help was still a foreign concept. Accepting his kindness, she'd sought control over her situation. Inviting him to move in, her strange reaction. She didn't regret it.

Activating her turn signal, she slowed, turning onto the circular Indian sandstone driveway, halting beneath the opulent portico. The Peak's white logo, etched across its plate glass entrance, welcomed her to the city's most expensive real estate. The suited doorman opened her car door. "Good Afternoon, Miss."

Grabbing her well-used black nylon tote from the passenger seat, she exited her car, watching his gaze fall over her unexpected Honda. Observing his reaction, she relieved his unease. "The gentleman who gave me my car saved my life. Please park it with care."

"Yes, miss."

Respect replaced judgement in his gaze. She smiled.

Accepting her keys, he returned her smile. "May I direct you?"

"Sarah Roberts. I'm moving in today."

He snapped almost to attention. "Welcome, Miss Roberts. I'm Sykes. I'll get you set up." He waved a younger doorman forward, who began loading her shopping onto his polished chrome luggage cart.

She followed Sykes into the vaulted white marble lobby. "Your face opens every door, Miss Roberts. Please stand beside the tulips. Face our black glass panel."

A lavish array of orange tulips in black vases, varying in height, stood tall beside the concierge desk, where Sykes tapped his computer keys. She studied the recessed black glass panel in the adjacent white wall. iPad sized, it stared back, ignoring her.

"Please turn in each direction."

Modeled herself, she offered the unresponsive black panel her best side before facing the stunning tulip display. Confronting the panel, it came alive. Warm white lettering spread across it. 'Hello, Sarah.'

She liked it knowing her name. Having pre-judged Fernando's technology, along with many news outlets, she stood seduced.

"Thank you, Miss Roberts. May I escort you to your penthouse?"

"I'd prefer to make my way."

"Of course."

She followed his gesture, feeling like she belonged. Eight elevators occupied two sides. A symmetrical collection of orange tulip vases stood before the end wall. She stepped into the second open car, taking pleasure in her choice.

Whisper quiet doors closed, the black glass panel confirming she was en route to the penthouse floor. Despite its location inside the building core, the elevator walls displayed the surrounding view. Her angle changing with her rising height. Her heart soared along with the stunning video presentation of the city. The lush park contained lounging couples. Traffic crawled the early evening streets. A bright red helicopter rose from the river heliport.

Stepping from her thrilling elevator seventy floors above the city, plush royal blue carpets nestled her sneakers. Four penthouses occupied the floor, recessed black glass panels beside their doors. A subtle row of white LED lights underlined only one panel, drawing her attention. She approached the highlighted panel. Her penthouse door opened. Stepping inside, she nudged it closed, its quiet mechanism supplying a comfortable click. Dropping her tote on her white quartz kitchen island, she kicked off her sneakers.

Padding over the sun-heated hardwood floor towards the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, she swept her gaze over downtown, falling into dusk. Below her prestigious penthouse, city streets patterned her past. The Peak nestled among the concert hall, a cinema, stylish galleries, cozy cafes, wine bars and restaurants, soaring above high-end stores and local boutiques.

Approaching her open-plan kitchen, she glided her fingers along the flush white Poggenpohl cabinets. Tugging them failed. She tried a gentle press. The servo-driven door swept up, its smooth action leaving clear access to the entire cupboard. China and glassware he'd requested from vacation filled their cupboards. Alongside the stylish royal blue and white show furniture, he'd provided everything. Powerless to reach the raised cupboard door, she studied its interior. A recessed black switch retrieved the whisper-quiet door.

Venturing beyond her open living area, she discovered three bright bedrooms, and identified the master. Peering into her walk-in closet, her twenty shopping bags lined one side. Wondering when Fernando would appear, she checked out the palatial bathroom. She loved white bathrooms; they exuded cleanliness.

Stripping off her suitcase clothes, she stood beneath the rainfall shower, smoothing silky soap into her delicate skin. Massaging her hair with her fingertips, she washed away the fire smell. Seeing her fire-ravaged home had made her feel filthy. Fluffy didn't describe the depths of her white towel. She wrapped herself, warmth spreading beneath her feet from the heated marble floor. Unsure how long she had, she hurried her processes.

Diving into her shopping bags, she extracted the organic green cotton underwear set. Comfortable pastel green protected her breasts. She snapped the bra catch behind her. Sweeping her new panties up her slender legs, she smoothed them over her bare butt. The Brazilian bikini cut left her golden tanned cheeks half bare, vulnerable to spanking.

In the mirror, fading red spots testified to her vacation belting. Evidence of Fernando's masculinity. He'd belted her. Twenty severe leather strokes across her bare bottom. An essential punishment for her excessive vacation masturbation obsession. She hadn't revealed her very personal crime, twenty further strokes paying for her privacy.

Bending her over her hotel bed, he'd laid on his leather, lashing her bare bottom. Exposed in her red g-string, she'd taken her belt spanking with dignity, humbled by his skillful application. He'd hurt her. Powerful lashes had burned her bottom, driving forceful regret. She'd borne her suffering with deep pride. Years since a man had punished her, his accomplished belting still reverberated through her soul, stirring immeasurable respect.

She'd walked sore beside him to dine in the resort restaurant, drenched in natural humility, her short, thin red sensational dress wrapping her belted cheeks. Sat sore, she'd begged him to fuck her instead. For dodging her public penance, he'd imposed a tough penalty. Her soaking sex had sworn to accept his cane, bare, when they got home. Since Kirsten's messages had ripped apart their vacation, he hadn't mentioned her penalty. She frowned. He may let it slide.

Pulling on her tight new jeans, they caressed her part-bare bottom. Fitting a pastel green shirt, she spun before her full-length dressing room mirror, receiving approval. Glancing around her clothes' home, she decided putting everything away must wait.

Strolling barefoot into their spacious living space, the miraculous city view beguiled her. She hoped she would never take it for granted. A confident click drew her attention. She recognized the door sound. Only approved faces unlocked her door. Seven days ago, he'd been her beach fantasy in tight black shorts. Tall in his navy suit, tanned from their vacation, Fernando's natural confidence sank a blanket of calm over her.

He grinned. "Hi honey, I'm home."

She met his grin, approaching him. Wafting her clean scent under his nose, she reached around his neck, rising onto tiptoes to kiss him. Firm waves of certainty flooded her body. She'd chosen right.

"You're beautiful, Sarah."

"You're not bad," she whispered, releasing him.

Towing two large black wheelies into their bedroom, he parked them before his small walk-in closet.

"Two suitcases contain your entire stuff?" she asked.

"Everything I need. I've called a mover. They'll store my stuff. My realtor mate will sell my old condo. This apartment is ultra ready. I've just signed our lease paperwork."

She kissed him again. "Finding you, I may have lucked out."

"Oh, you did," he grinned. "But I come at a stiff price."

Glancing towards their king-sized bed, she smirked. "I'll pay."

He hardened his tone. "A different kind of price, Sarah."

His sudden sternness enveloped her. Flattening her palms over her vulnerable jeans-clad bottom, her nipples stiffened, praising his beautiful dominance. Fixed under his piercing gaze, she didn't wilt. She wouldn't challenge his authority. He understood her need. She hoped he'd stand firm.

He said, "Our relationship is very new. Consistency is crucial."

Praying for his unyielding toughness, she nodded. "I agree."

"During our shortened vacation dinner, you agreed to accept a strict penalty for escaping your public penance."

Thrilled by his firm reminder, shame lowered her gaze to her bare toes. "I did."

He relaxed, pleased by her compliance. He'd considered letting her off, given her terrible circumstances. However, he'd assisted with those. Her challenges didn't excuse punishments she'd earned. Her bottom deserved to sting. She'd escaped hours of embarrassing discomfort for wanton sex. He'd obliged, soliciting agreement to his tough penalty. She deserved it. Stepping forward, he placed his finger beneath her chin. Raising it, he said, "I'm going to cane you, Sarah."