« Spanking Stories

In their penthouse bedroom, Sarah Roberts met Fernando's firm gaze. "Yes, sir."

She'd hoped he would follow through on his vacation promise. He was dead right. Vaulted forward by extreme circumstances, their nascent relationship needed consistency. He must hold her to her agreement. She watched him unzip his taller wheelie, extracting a thin golden cane. Straight rattan flexed under his firm control.

"I'll lend you this cane until your implements arrive," he said. "First, you'll feel it. Twelve strokes, bare."

She said, "Thank you." Rounding each syllable, she encapsulated her commitment. His smooth dominance met her needs. She'd maintained her private discipline, bending before her staple cane, wedged in her upstairs hallway cupboard door. Nothing beat physical punishment from a powerful man.

"Drop your jeans, Sarah," he ordered. He loved her dangerous jeans. He'd known he must set the tone of their relationship. Loving her required he punish her.

She pushed down her new jeans. Shivers of pleasurable submission spread down her bare legs.

"Bend over the bed."

Shuffling towards the foot of their kingsize, she obeyed, resting her arms on their crisp white linen. Facing their blue and white pillow combinations, she concentrated on their neatness. Male fingers slid beneath her organic green bikini panties. Whisked to her skinny ankles, her purposeless panties evidenced her total surrender. Her rock solid nipples pressed hard agreement into her soft bra. Taking control, he'd stripped her of personal power. Her panties teased her ankles, humbling her.

"Sitting in public with a belted bottom was a fair penance. You dodged it. You deserve my cane."

The straight rattan tapped her bare bottom in warning. She steadied herself. She had masturbated on vacation, reaching epic levels of obsession. Condemned to her public penance, she'd deserved her discomfort during dinner. Given her penalty instead, she'd loved the guarantee they'd meet again. Tonight was their first official night together. She'd sleep beside him, her bare bottom welted by his cane.

A brisk whistle rushed across their bedroom. An abrupt crack sank into their soundproofed walls. Savage sting shot across her bare cheeks, heat soaring. Tightening her fists, she stayed still, her agony mounting. Its virulent spread demanded she accept it. She wrapped it in furious praise. Her bare backside singed by a single stripe, she swore allegiance to him. His deliberate delivery of intense pain in perfect horizontal agony proved he was a reliable boyfriend.

"My strokes hurt, Sarah. You chose sex over penance you deserved. Show me diligent acceptance of your punishment."

She swallowed his firm words, swirling them through her soreness, grateful for his tough demand. The menacing cane rested still. She remembered her belted bottom burning through her thin red dress at dinner. God, she'd wanted him. Separated by their dinner table, she'd have advised her girls to maintain their decorum. Damn, she deserved this.

The rattan snapped into her flesh, searing her skin. Fire leaped across her lines, spreading her pain. She gasped, holding in a deeper cry. Worshiping her justified pain, she bent deeper, presenting her exposed bottom.

The cane repeated its whistle, burning three fierce lines into her tender flesh. She fixated on her disobedience. Subtle public discomfort would have done her good. Painful consequences taught deserved lessons. Her sting spread. His unrelenting rattan scorched a cruel burn into her tenderness, striking lower than she'd expected. Caught unaware, he'd made her listen to her pain. Atrocious agony boosted her respect.

Sustained heat soared, his relentless rod extracting its price for her instant gratification. Fierce strikes filled in gaps between her fiery stripes, enhancing her suffering. Striving for total acceptance, she pictured other resort guests seeing her wriggle in her seat. Shamed in public, her pride burst. She'd deserved her uncomfortable penance. Blistering cane strokes burned sheer agony into her deserving bottom. She offered her bare backside before his cane, letting his serious strokes handle her selfish disobedience. The punishment rod paused.

"One more stroke, Sarah. It must be memorable."

The cane slid down her bottom, resting between her bottom and legs. Her skin prickled beneath its potent touch.

"Ask me to cane you hard."

She melted beneath his unrelenting firmness. Drawing a deep breath, she said, "Please give my last stoke, sir. Show no mercy. Please cane me hard."

"As you wish."

Brutal sting burst naked hurt deep into her tenderness. She cried out, providing unavoidable proof he'd hurt her. Sucking hard, she clenched her teeth, riding her suffering. Her pain peaked, landing her heart on dead certainty. She needed him.

"Stand up, Sarah."

Proud to obey, she rose, her striped bottom less keen on the proposition.

"Face me."

Bare below her waist, she turned to him. Beneath his raking gaze, she submitted to his stark inspection.

"Understand the nature of our relationship," he said. "At home, I decide when you deserve discipline. I won't permit debate. I promise fairness, tough judgement, and painful punishment. You won't always find obedience easy. I still require it. Should you know you deserve spanking, report yourself to me. You'll suffer for your honesty. Our relationship won't."

Reaching up, she pulled his neck towards her. Her passionate lips responded, celebrating the burning agony of her caned backside. He'd declared the absolute right to punish her. Needing air, she broke free. "In case I wasn't clear. Yes, sir. Punish me, whatever it entails. It's your duty. I'll obey you."

"If you disagree?"

"I accept my punishment. I respect the nature of our relationship. It isn't a democracy. I obey you."

Her deliberate declaration sent delicious shivers down her spine. She'd received unique insights into her girls' relationships. If they had ever felt her raging desire, they were lucky girls. Grabbing his tie, she pulled him towards their bed. Hindered by her jeans, she fell backwards. His hard suited body landed beside her. Kicking her jeans off, she flung a single leg sky high, flinging her panties away. Pulled into him, naked below her waist, his hardness pressed his suit pants into her as his lips owned her. Grinding against his hardness, her eager sex demanded him, her tongue chasing his.

Reaching down, she released his belt, groaning. "Is this the belt you spanked me with?"

"Yes." He took over, undoing his pants, shoving them free, revealing small, tight white boxers. Ripping off his shirt, he bared his tanned torso.

She flung away her shirt, letting her bra slide down a slender arm, landing on the floor. She pressed against his boxers, humping his hardness, dampening his tight white cotton. "You belted me on vacation."

He kissed her hard. "Tell me why I belted you." Permitting her privacy for extra pain, he'd wondered at her motivation.

She didn't hesitate. Trivial beside their deepening relationship, she said, "Excessive masturbation. Ten times a day."

"Beautiful girl," he groaned. Pushing down his boxers, he released his manhood.

"I was a naughty girl, deserving a belt spanking," she panted. He rolled on top of her, sliding his hardness into her. Her sex resisted him. Losing her glorious resistance, his strength consumed her.

"I belted your naughtiness out of you."

His strokes stirred sensations she'd never felt, driving his disciplined strength deep into her desperate need. "It didn't last," she moaned, pressure building under his determined assault.

"I saw. At dinner, you were precocious. Demanding sex."

Skimming her nipples, she said, "For which you've caned me." Her bottom burned beneath her. Her sex celebrated her strict correction.

"You took your caning well."

His exquisite compliment pierced her heart. Dominant hands grasped her waist, spinning her on top. Firm fingers gripped her bottom, showing no mercy. Pain flooded from her painful weals into her core. She screamed her pleasure. Savage bliss roused her. Rising on his manhood, she drew heightened pleasure from his hardness. "You ripped down my panties."

"I'd promised you bare."

"Bare," she panted. "Caned. Bare."

He thrust deep into her, flinging her pleasure onto her precipice. Poised above perfection, he let her glory retreat, stilling her hips. Sweet denial swept her into utter submission. She stared into his eyes. "I'm yours."

His commanding hardness powered deep inside her, carrying her submission deeper, praising her utter capitulation. Her sex gripped his control. Raging floods of pleasure crammed against her dam. He rammed into her, smashing her control. Detonation stilled everything for a stellar instant. Cataclysmic desire erupted, bursting her dam. Glorious rivers of native pleasure flooded through her, stealing every ounce of pent up pleasure and obliterating it into a cavalcade of golden explosions, each more beautiful than the last. Stunned, her exhausted curves committed to him, falling on his sturdy chest.

She slid her knees back, lying full length on him, her head resting on his safe chest. Robust arms wrapped around her. She whispered, "I needed you to cane me. You'd promised."

He spread his fingers, reaching for more of her smooth skin. "You were sensational. Are you very sore?"

"Nothing less than I deserve. Everything I needed. You cut me no slack."

He smiled. "I considered it, but you deserved your punishment. Nothing changed that."

"We're both learning. You were perfect."

"So were you," he said. "I loved your trust."

"I loved your strictness." She lay content, his steady heartbeat thumping in her ear. She'd have slept on him. Except her stomach disagreed. Low growls revealed her need.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Mmh. Hell, yes." After her morning of insurance paperwork, Kirsten had served sandwiches. She'd established her lonely desk on her vast office floor, filled her twenty shopping bags, and discovered her new penthouse home. Anticipating his arrival had used up her nervous energy. Hunger surged. "Please."

Rolling her onto her back, he stroked her, kissed her, and stood. She watched his muscular butt fit into his tight white shorts, highlighting his strapping thighs. Adding his white shirt, he did up two buttons. She stretched, her sex approving. Her stomach cited priority.

She luxuriated in their Egyptian cotton sheets, her wholesome sting her indispensable companion. Feeling her prominent, painful ridges, her heart flooded with warm confidence. Her boyfriend had caned her, hard. Her fingertips savored her tangible proof, evoking sharp pain. He'd planted his authority on her bare backside. She'd carry his marks with pride.

Smiling, she bounced into her walk-in closet. The mirror showed the proof she'd felt. She counted. Twelves harsh lines etched by him to punish her. He'd corrected her misbehavior, dealing with her shameless need for sex at dinner that night. Retrieving her organic green Brazilian bikini panties, she slid them on before her mirror, watching welts disappear beneath her panties. Emerging red lines still revealed her punished status. Blatant welts lower on her bottom screamed her submission. She donned her green shirt, its light cotton grazing her proud nipples.

Her stripes on display, she emerged into the kitchen, finding he'd already tossed a salad. The rich aroma of frying steaks thrilled her nose.

"Medium rare?" he asked.

"Yes, please." Navigating the quartz island, she pulled out one of four square bar stools. Stepping onto the chrome footrest, she perched, sinking into the white cushioned seat, her bottom delivering its painful purpose. Humility resting light upon her shoulders, she watched her man turn their steaks in the Mauviel copper frying pan.

He pulled a huge cupboard open, revealing half a subzero refrigerator. Slipping off her stool, she rounded the island, opening the other door. Shelves of bountiful produce met her gaze. Vibrant lettuces, tomatoes and cucumbers lay below cheeses, steaks, mince, eggs, and sliced meets. Pulling freezer drawers out, multiple flavors of luxury ice creams met with her approval. She spotted fresh strawberries. Removing the huge tray, the radiant red fruit buzzed her senses. She placed it on the island. "For dessert."

He looked over. "Perfect."

Below the site of her earlier successful cupboard excursion, a drawer produced cutlery. She laid their round glass dining table for two. He brought their plates, her steak, begging for her. Sitting opposite, her gray cushioned dining chair greeted her disciplined bottom.

Watching her, he asked, "Are you okay?"

She smiled. "I'm very sore. My boyfriend has just caned me."

Companionable silence filled their living room as they assuaged their hunger. She tidied their plates, stacking them in the dishwasher. Hearing the fridge, she watch him pour cream into the silver mixer, setting a slow speed.

She sidled up beside him. Soft peaks appeared in the cream. "Fruit should grow with whipped cream on it."

Switching off the mixer, he grinned, "So true."

Her tears fell, releasing years of self support. His arm wrapped around her in silence. Minutes passed. Blinking away her tears, she tapped her heart. "I've been waiting for you. Here, inside my heart." It wasn't rational reasoning. Pure emotion. The purest. Observing her girls' relationships, she'd imbibed their wisdom, recognizing how they made men feel. Compassion, support, nurturing, desire, and fear collided. She couldn't lose him. Intelligence quashed her fear. Only she could lose him. And she wouldn't.

He provided. Material care when she'd lost everything. Emotional care in his arms. He adored her business. It had made her interesting. He drove her body to soaring heights her casual lovers had never known. Above all, he hadn't let her off. He'd caned her.

In her hour of greatest need, he'd helped her, stood beside her, supported her, and he'd caned her. He hadn't delayed her correction or reduced her sentence. He'd proved consistent. Twelve burning stripes certified he wasn't a dream. She reached for him, placing her small palm on his substantial chest. "I'm yours. I know it. Do you?"

His smile melted into certainty. "I know."

"I haven't known you a week yet," she said, probing his resolve.

"Six days, fourteen hours and twelve strokes."

She burst into a grin, falling into his arms. Nuzzling his neck, she repeated, "Six days, fourteen hours, and twelves strokes."

Grabbing his arm, she pulled his hand down onto her part-bare butt. Both his powerful palms spread across her painful ridges, his firm grip sending sweet heat into her deserving sex.