« Spanking Stories

Waking early, Zara showered, flung on fresh panties, and climbed into her bed to examine Miss Roberts' website. Days had passed, her aching, paddled bottom keeping her patient. Rewarded, Sarah had called last night. Given her chance, she'd described her suitability for an executive role at Virtue. She may have overstepped her confidence into arrogance. Regretting her determination, she wondered if she'd already blown her opportunity. Outlining her management experience in her bartender position, she'd explained several of her corporal punishment incidents, expressing her appreciation of the discipline she'd received. She may have spent too long talking. She understood why girls talked to Miss Roberts. The intelligent disciplinarian had described her business in concise terms, providing her website, and inviting her to Virtue this morning.

Miss Roberts' website promised clear punishment for recognized faults. Her excitement soared. Girls' testimonies weren't fake pithy quotes. Clients had penned entire articles describing their issue, their punishment, their pain and suffering. Each story concluded with calm confidence and utter certainty their painful consequences had corrected matters. She'd love to meet any client of Miss Roberts.

Following a link to Virtue, the co-working space Sarah had mentioned, she examined its business proposition. Having no need, she'd never considered co-working space. Searching the subject, she read competitors sites. Sarah's pricing crushed her competitors. Five desperate ads above her search results showed how competitors found customers. She burst into a grin. Oh, my god. Miss Roberts had tons of smart, young, female clients. She could supply any service they desired with minimal marketing cost. Genius.

She returned to the discipline website, the business's foundation. She'd kept a testimonial in a spare tab. Her fingers slid into her Calvin Klein panties. Their skimpy bikini cut thrilled her. Black and white stripes stretched over her hand as she teased her hard clit. The girl had mentioned wearing unsuitable panties. It appeared Miss Roberts required plain white cotton bikini panties. Flinging aside her comforter, she gazed at her unsatisfactory underwear, imagining her punishment. According to the writer, the large, leather strap had taught a severe lesson, blazing fierce burn across her entire butt.

Her panty stripes screamed disobedience. Following the writer's testimony, she imagined herself bent over Miss Roberts' desk. Forced to grip tight as heavy leather blasted into her brilliant disobedience, she circled herself, juices flowing. Pleasure in her predicament overtook her. She welcomed worse burn as each blow stung into her gross disobedience. Offended by her incorrect panties, she condemned herself to harder and harder lashes until her fervent regret flung furious orgasms into a flood of phenomenal pleasure.

Shoving off her disgraceful panties, she chose plain white. Her plain white Calvin Klein bikinis seemed more sweet because she felt ordered to wear them. She'd told Sarah she appreciated discipline. Her potential boss may check her claim. She'd respected the client rules.

Before noon, she approached Virtue. Her obedient white cotton felt gorgeous beneath her smart, black tailored pants. Upgrading her bartender uniform, she'd downgraded her heels to low, black flats, adding a pink fitted blazer over her white blouse. Her responsibilities within Virtue were unclear. She expected to receive punishment for obvious errors. However, her management role may require her to deliver discipline. Considering it in depth this morning, her fingers had strayed. She'd imagined another girl obeying her. It held less appeal, yet her finger proved it wasn't without pleasure. Picturing the other girl's scrupulous obedience, she'd come hard.

The imposing city skyscraper exuded success. In the vaulted lobby, smart signage led her to choose the correct elevator car. Reaching level fifty, a discreet magnolia painted lobby welcomed her. A young woman, maybe mid-thirties, in a form-fitting black, knee-length dress, stood before the Virtue logo. Her relaxed stance and confidence screamed ownership.

Stepping forward, she said, "Sarah?"

"Zara?" Miss Roberts said.

Zara nodded, shaking hands.

Miss Roberts observed the young girl. Straight, long blonde locks defined a flawless face, accentuating her immaturity. Her confidence didn't. It radiated assurance. She guided Zara through the waiting room to her discipline suite, her interest piqued. She'd filled four suites with disciplinarians who'd earned her confidence. Might Zara belong within virtue?

Zara studied the discipline suite, noticing the dark gray desk's logical purpose and recognizing the bright red leather spanking bench. Although boring black in her research, it provided various comfortable positions to receive severe punishment. The floor-to-ceiling glass exhibited her to humanity. Summoned for her transgressions, its extraordinary influence held her to account.

Watching Zara, Sarah said, "It's privacy glass. They can't see you."

Zara smiled. "Effective."

Sarah beamed at the single word. Zara had nailed the view's intended purpose. Seating herself in her armchair, she watched Zara slide onto the gray client couch. Even seated, she radiated confidence.

"Zara," Sarah said. "Virtue has become a substantial business. It's my vision. However, I don't enjoy managing minutiae. The co-working space runs out of coffee supplies or printer cartridges. Someone restocks it. However, it shouldn't happen. My talented disciplinarians excel at their art. Managing them requires attention to detail I didn't expect. Vacation scheduling causes conflicts, given their differing experience."

"How may I help you?" Zara asked.

Sarah smiled. A beautiful enquiry, its gentle delivery grabbed her. Beguiling, Zara's stunning good looks matched her nature. "I view the role as operations manager."

Zara hid her response. The title felt utilitarian. It didn't fit Virtue.

Sarah continued. "You'd report to me, managing the disciplinarians and the business operations."

"I understand Profit and Loss statements and balance sheets," Zara said. "Would you give me financial authority to enact changes?"

Miss Roberts stared at Zara, contemplating her crucial decision. Young, her appearance contradicted her skills. "Within reason. Otherwise, it defeats your existence."

Zara tasted the satisfying response. Unable to effect substantial change in her bar, she'd realized the value of financial authority.

They discussed supervising people, the human challenge of balancing praise with instruction. Zara loved their fascinating discussion, learning tons, asking questions without hesitation.

"Zara. Your questions reveal a passion for detail I lack."

"I didn't know girls sought discipline. Virtue fascinates me."

Miss Roberts smiled. "Let's talk discipline."

"It's your business foundation."

Sarah smiled again. This girl, albeit only twenty, exuded precise intelligence whatever she discussed. Fernando was right to strap her for ignoring his suggestion. "You're very intelligent, Zara. All my disciplinarians' contracts stipulate punishment at my discretion. It's a significant responsibility. Delegating you that authority may challenge you. Given your age, some staff may defy you."

"Age isn't relevant," Zara said. " If anyone presents unfounded challenges, I'll deliver painful lessons."

"Have you given punishment?"

"I need you to teach me. I have plenty of experience receiving strict discipline."

Sarah felt trust. Overconfidence often led job candidates to lie. Zara had admitted her clear deficiency, presenting credentials to show she could learn.

Her potential operations manager described her recent paddling from her boss to deal with her impatience. It showed huge self awareness. Sarah's confidence soared. Asking her dad to cane her for a private sexual indiscretion, the intelligent girl recognized her need for heavy disgrace. Getting her father's belt over her bed, she'd requested it harder. Her subsequent break down before her hurt mom showed immense understanding, the exact wisdom a leader must exhibit. Worried her potential employee may never run out of examples, she raised her hand. "I believe you, Zara."

"Thank you, Miss Roberts."

Miss Roberts smiled. The proper address showed Zara's natural respect for authority. She pulled two laminated cards from beside her chair, passing them across. "Our punishment menu, and our rules."

Zara pored over the ever-increasing punishments. Flaming Valleys tingled her bottom. She imagined the cane slicing into her strapped butt. Fierce respect emerged for girls who received this harsh sanction. Switching to the rules, she observed the requirement to wear plain white cotton bikini style panties. Disobedience won four licks from the heavy leather strap. Her hidden panties pleased her. "I understand clients choose their punishment?"

"They do," Miss Roberts said, explaining her process.

Zara lit up, enjoying the formality described. "Cathartic agony."

Miss Roberts rejoiced. Zara's succinct words delighted her. She firmed her tone. "I'm afraid I must assess you, Zara. I must see your attitude during discipline. If we proceed, I'll punish your mistakes with positive discussion and necessary pain."

"I expected it, miss."

Miss Roberts reminded herself to never underestimate Zara. She'd posed her point with unnecessary care. "I'll cane you, Zara. Ten strokes. It won't be inconsequential. The cane always hurts."

Zara swept her long blonde locks together. Plucking a black hair band from her wrist, she twisted it, securing her ponytail. Bending over, it would stay off her face. "I deserve it for something."

Miss Roberts nodded. "Sound attitude." She considered the desk, choosing to offer her potential operations manager the choice. "Would you prefer my desk or the spanking bench?"

Zara studied her choice. Excitement stirred alongside fear. She'd never encountered a spanking bench. Its allure beckoned her body. "The bench please, miss."

Slipping her pink blazer from her shoulders, she lay it on the couch, following Miss Roberts to the bright red punishment bench. "I won't secure you in place, Zara. I expect your active cooperation."

"Understood, miss." Zara expected nothing less of herself.

"Bending over its width positions your bottom high, perfect for hard punishment. It also presents your thighs for painful strokes."

Zara shivered. She'd never had her thighs punished. She wasn't sure she'd appreciate receiving pain on her sensitive skin. Self critical, she corrected her demeanor. It wasn't her choice. If her punisher decided she needed painful thighs, she'd receive them. She pictured herself upended in total submission. Someday she may have to obey.

"Today, you'll lay along its length, gripping the far leg bars. Your comfortable position will remind you I'm assessing your attitude, not punishing you."

"Thank you, miss." Zara treasured the attention given to her assessment caning. From website to spanking bench, Virtue embodied the firm kindness of its founder.

Miss Roberts visited a cupboard, returning with a school cane. Zara studied the golden rattan, its crooked handle forming a perfect balance. Designed to inflict maximum pain without compunction, someone had fashioned its flawless shape, knowing it would punish.

"Lower your pants, please."

Zara shuddered. The abrupt instruction showed Miss Roberts' undeniable authority. She unbuttoned her black pants, easing them over her hips. Sliding her pants down her long legs, her moisturized skin looked sensational. Proud of her appearance, she stood facing her disciplinarian.

"You may have noticed our rules require plain white cotton bikini panties. The rule fosters humility before facing punishment. You're not subject to client rules." The cane tip nudged her Calvin Klein emblazoned elastic. "It's a good job. While white, prominent branding is not plain. I'd add four strokes of my heaviest leather strap for disobedience. Girls need strictness. I'm sympathetic, but firm. I never excuse rule breaking."

Zara swallowed her shock, shoveling herself in shame. She'd thought herself obedient. Discovering her failure hurt. Aware through references in testimonials, she'd imagined herself clever and obedient. She was neither. Covering her surprise, she said, "I imagine everyone obeys."

"Not always. Bend over," Miss Roberts ordered.

Zara shuffled forward, placing herself along the length of the comfortable, rounded leather bench. She gripped the close black metal legs, her disappointing white cotton panties presented for formal punishment. Her tight cotton followed her curves, emphasizing her bare lower cheeks. Her shameful waistband felt tighter, criticized by her disciplinarian's cane tip. She deserved her caning.

"Get ready, Zara."

Zara processed her warning. Intending to show her smarts, she'd failed, ending up disobedient. The cane tapped her panties. She exhaled, trusting in herself. The hiss of the rattan broke into a fierce crack, burying itself in her welcoming cotton. Fire exploded into her cheeks. She rammed her teeth into her lower lip. Ten times worse than her dad's cane. Desperate to quell its unrelenting agony, it increased, defying her. Two swift strokes broke her concentration, adding blinding pain to her struggle. Holding herself together, she buried her misery, thanking the pain's generosity. Marred by her branding mistake, her disgraceful panties deserved severe strokes. The cane bit into her firm behind. Scorching sting branded her bareness beyond her panties. Wincing, she panted.

"That's how a professional caning feels, Zara. Shall I continue?"

Zara permitted herself a moment to process her pain. The cane had wrought fury, burning its worst agony into her soft skin. The combined heat still escalating, she admired the depth demanded of her. She admired 'Virtue' clients. Determined to meet their standards, her pain pulsed her conscience. "The full ten, please, miss. And your heavy strap. I read reference to your white panties rule. I misinterpreted my minimal knowledge. It doesn't excuse my arrogance. I'm still bent over your bench in disobedient panties. I'm sorry."

Miss Roberts upgraded Zara beyond her assessment scale. She'd used the girl's panties as an education opportunity, unaware she'd tried to comply. She hadn't intended to upset her. Still, a bona fide reason provided enormous help in handling pain. "Attention to detail matters. I'll honor your request, Zara."

Zara summoned her courage. She deserved this. The strict rod struck low. Missing all her cotton, it seared her skin. Plunged into an agonizing abyss, she visualized several pairs of actual plain white panties in her drawer. They mocked her. Waves of evil sting burned her soft flesh. Carried into her soul, they built phenomenal respect. The cane brushed her lower cheeks, resting inside her bottom crease. Above her legs, its cruel position promised terrible pain. Taut as a drum, her sensitive skin howled a desperate denial. The cane struck. Sensitivity burst into savage burn. Driving her grip tight, she received her last stroke on top, doubling her agony. A cry burst from her. She mustered, respecting its duty to deliver its worst. She'd taken her ten strokes.

The light cane clattered onto a chair. She imagined the enormous leather strap. Descriptions depicted terrible weight, delivering fierce heat. Her caned crease burned in agony, the unrelenting sting from her ten stripes keeping it company. Broad leather lay against her irrelevant panties as Miss Roberts positioned her strap. It felt huge. Dignity boosted her pride. She'd attempted extreme cleverness. Failing, she deserved to feel the error of her arrogance.

"Four, Zara. Steel yourself." Miss Roberts hoped the girl could meet her promises. She couldn't deliver light licks. The strap only landed hard. She lifted it away, releasing its end. Slamming it forward, it landed square across the young girl's almost white panties.

Zara buried her face back against the end of the bench, pressing her lips into the leather to avoid screaming. Burn burst across her bitter bottom. Her gripping knuckles whitened. She pleaded with her pain to disperse. The strap lowered its aim, ensuring no escape. It landed, its phenomenal speed merciful. Raging heat stretched across her cheeks. Twice more, the leather lashed her disobedience out of her. Spreading fire deep into her skin, it ignored her feeble cotton protection. She relaxed into her fiery agony. A grim smile erupted. She'd taken a full-blown professional punishment.

Placing a soft palm on Zara's shoulder, Miss Robert said, "Join me when you're ready. No hurry."

Returning to her armchair, Sarah considered her potential operations manager. The girl held her respect. Fernando had undersold her. Endowed with immense self-respect, gaining team respect was crucial. She'd need to show her co-workers empathy, and also her tough side.

Zara appeared, sitting opposite. She exhibited no signs of her significant discomfort. Sarah said, "You passed if you're in doubt."

Zara smiled. "Thank you. It wasn't easy."

Sarah saw heartfelt honesty. A graceful girl determined to reach the highest standards. Sitting on her soreness, she exemplified Virtue. "Excellence extends beyond yourself. To lead, you must gain trust and respect."

"I manage my peers behind the bar. They defer to me. I didn't choose to lead them. It happened. I find it natural."

Sarah smiled. Leaders never just happened. They emerged. "Friday morning, I'll teach you to cane. Assuming you're proficient, I'll give you a chance to show your skill while I observe. I'm looking for your soft management skills, your natural leadership. Show me a flawless balance between simple kindness and cold steel."

Surprised, Zara nodded. She'd imagined a single interview. Cursing her naivety, she undertook fresh focus. She could learn to cane. Leadership had happened. She wondered about studying its principles before Friday. Should she train herself or assume she was already a natural leader? Incredible heat in her bottom offered a definitive opinion. Assumption had cost her today.