« Spanking Stories

Two wooden chairs, ideal for bending over, didn't produce a pleasing seating area. Fifty levels above downtown, Miss Roberts frowned at her vast, deserted office floor, patterned with varied blue carpet tiles. Between her penthouse and the river, her convenient location didn't emulate the warm, welcoming environment in which she'd built her discipline business. So far she'd met her girls' basic need. But her vast wilderness wasn't conducive to agreeable correction. She'd spent tremendous efforts settling clients in her barren space.

The elevator issued its hushed tone. She approved of its unobtrusive announcement. Scarlett emerged. Miss Roberts smiled. When she'd begun her discipline business, she'd almost given up, disappointed in her clients. She hadn't yet learned her business suited girls. Scarlett's well-timed call, long ago, had sparked her success. A trainee architect, Scarlett had embarrassed her boss. Scanning her design brief, she'd sketched an entrancing entrance bridge for their client's property instead of a wooden garden bridge. Listening to Scarlett's story, hearing her embarrassment and guilt, she'd stripped her client of her miniskirt, and caned her across her smart black panties for negligence. Now in her late twenties, Scarlett owned an award-winning architecture practice. The beautiful blonde girl in blue jeans and pink blouse approached.

"Wow, this is different," Scarlett said.

Miss Roberts nodded, surveyed the emptiness, drawing Scarlett towards her two disappointing wooden chairs. Alongside directions to her convenient new location, she'd added a heartfelt article to her booking app, explaining the fire. She couldn't discuss her disaster with every client. It detracted from their needs.

Seated, facing each other, she admired Scarlett's slender crossed legs in skinny jeans. She'd bet her client's legs brought business. Five feet away stood her temporary desk, shielded by gray cubicle partitions. Borrowed from another floor, the strategic panels provided emotional privacy.

Scarlett admired Miss Roberts' fortitude. She'd read the house fire article. Losing her home had hurt her disciplinarian. This spartan space wasn't the same. However, it didn't change her needs.

Miss Roberts said, "In your booking, you mentioned stressing your boyfriend." Most clients provided a reason for their appointment in her booking app.

"Yes," Scarlett said. "Steve still won't punish me himself. He seems okay with me seeing you. Although, I didn't give him a choice."

Miss Roberts frowned. She'd speculated about Scarlett's boyfriend. His refusal to discipline his girlfriend worried her. Her client's radiant glow suggested an otherwise healthy relationship. Toughening her tone, she said, "Decent girlfriends don't stress at their men."

"I'm sorry," Scarlett said. "We've bought a new house. It's quite expensive. We're watching our spending. He bought pricey new golf clubs. We can afford them. However, I felt they weren't a priority. I got antsy, snapping at him for several days. Last weekend, I exploded, ripping into him for buying them."

"Did he give you a reason?"

"He showed me. He laid an empty orange juice carton on our lawn, urging me to putt his golf ball from six feet. It stopped short. With his new putter, I putted it. Better balanced, it required a light swing."

Miss Roberts smiled. "A reasoned, rational response to your emotional outburst."

"I know," Scarlett groaned. "I apologized, making him my best grilled cheese. He's playing a district judge next week."

"You still feel appalling, it seems."

"I grumbled at him, adding snide asides in every conversation. He didn't deserve my behavior. His calm demonstration hurt. I didn't meet his level of relationship behavior. I'm ashamed."

"What punishment do you deserve?"

Scarlett blushed. "A Healthy Whipping. Your menu description promises lasting marks. It feels dreadful. Suitable for unhealthy behavior, I think."

Miss Roberts glanced at her stack of cardboard boxes. She'd received boxes of straps, canes, paddles, and whips. Stacked in a corner, she'd used one cardboard box to hold her active implements. It wasn't satisfactory. She stood and removed her pristine riding crop. Flexing it, she handed the narrow black rod to Scarlett, sitting again.

Scarlett slid her fingers along the fine, flexible shaft. "Scary."

"It sinks deep into your bottom, burying a vicious sting. Red marks cover your entire bottom, becoming light bruises. Steve will see I've whipped you."

"He should." Measuring the crop's flex, Scarlett paled. "Your menu said at least fifty strokes."

"More, I'm afraid," Miss Roberts said. "Your bottom is gorgeous, Scarlett. A Healthy Whipping delivers a meaningful lesson. It modifies behavior."

Scarlett handed across the whip. "My behavior needs modification. I deserve it."

"Good Girl. Follow me." Miss Roberts walked towards the desk. Scarlett followed.

"Lower your jeans, Scarlett."

Scarlett unbuttoned her jeans, struggling them down her legs to her knees.

Miss Roberts observed Scarlett's plain white cotton bikini panties, neither expecting nor finding non-compliance from her long-standing client. "Bend over."

Scarlett sank onto the worn wooden desk. Reaching, she grasped its edge. Staring at the gray partition, she felt sad. She'd observed the building on arrival. Privacy glass ensured nobody could see her. Exposed before the entire city for her shameful whipping, her imagination would have delivered heavy humiliation, despite remaining unseen.

"Lower your panties," ordered Miss Roberts.

Scarlett obeyed. Reaching back, she slid her panties below her bottom, pushing her white cotton to join her jeans. She'd never had to bare her bottom before for punishment. Being ordered bare added incredible shame to her already humble position.

"Your jeans will keep your legs together. I must see my results."

Grateful for the explanation, pride in her obedience spread. "Thank you, miss."

"Insolence doesn't become you, Scarlett. Your need your healthy whipping."

Scarlett stuffed her scolding into her heart. She'd been unpleasant multiple times, goading her man with deliberate insolence. The thin whip settled on her cheeks. Transparent warning prickled across her skin. Disappearing, a vicious bite snapped into its place. Nasty sting submerged into her cheeks. Unusual precision pain intensified. She squeezed the desk edge, clenching her butt cheeks.

"Relax, Scarlett. It needs to hurt you. Your behavior was disgraceful."

Scarlett's self-disgust grew. The riding crop struck fast. Four strokes whipped her skin, cruel lessons in curtesy. She should have discussed her concern with her man before judging him. Pain spread. Maybe his timing wasn't great, but it wasn't his choice either. The whistling whip delivered brutal bare bottom burn. Lines of healthy apology sizzled her skin, burning agony into her deplorable attitude.

Her pain picked up, her bottom stinging under sustained strokes. In four tight sections, the crop whipped her cheeks, maximizing her suffering. She held still. Her tapestry of artistic agony overlapped, forcing submission to the savage whip. She would show Steve her shameful apology, baring her butt in white string panties. She'd remind him she was a dutiful girl. Whipped for her misbehavior, her bottom evidenced her serious punishment.

"Scarlett. Last Ten strokes. Show extreme grace as I beat you fast."

"Yes, miss." Pouncing on her escalated demand, she remained dead still, acknowledging her misbehavior. The swift crop bit deep into her sensitive lower bottom. She panted. Fierce strokes forced a loud cry. Gripping the desk, she held on for mercy. Fury escalated into a fierce fire. She exhaled into her torment, praying for its end. Her suffering ceased. Her pain didn't.

Miss Roberts said, "Stay there." Giving her client uncomfortable privacy, she replaced the riding crop in her designated box.

Scarlett sighed, relaxing her grip on the desk. Heat spread, proclaiming her healthy whipping. Beaten, her guilt receded. She'd keep her private commitment. In a sexy string, her bare, whipped bottom would show Steve her healthy whipping. A full, painful, humble apology for her shameful behavior.

"You may dress, Scarlett."

Scarlett stood, pulling up her white cotton over her burning red backside. Planting her palms on her panties, incessant heat blazed through her cotton. She yanked up her jeans. Rightful burn encased her half-bare bottom. Humble, she approached Miss Roberts. "Thank you for whipping me, Miss."

"Make sure you show your boyfriend your excellent manners. He deserves it."

"I will, miss. I'll also show him my whipping."

Miss Roberts smiled. "Wise decision." She hoped it might help her client show her boyfriend the benefit. Whipped, Scarlett's modest nature broadcast in beautiful waves. Her man must notice her exquisite humility.

Frowning, Scarlett swung her arm across the emptiness. It offended her. "I design commercial spaces. Would you like inspiration?"

Miss Roberts scanned her useless office floor, hope rising. She owed her clients something better than this sterile space. "I'm overwhelmed. It's too large."

"Will you add more disciplinarians?"

"I've considered it."

Scarlett rubbed her bottom through her jeans. Agonizing heat worsened her pain. Standing taller, she said, "More girls need you."

Miss Roberts smiled. "I love my business."

"So do I," Scarlett said. "Except..." she paused. "No exceptions. Even when you're beating me, I'm grateful. I love my relief afterwards. I feel pretty humble."

Miss Roberts smiled. "Thank you."

Scarlett pondered possibilities. Pulling her iPhone from her bag, she marched towards the elevator, snapping a photo of the entire empty office floor.

Miss Roberts watched her generous client extract a green handheld device from her shoulder bag, firing its red laser beam the length of her unoccupied office space, checking against her phone. Watching her client measure locations of pillars and service ducts, hope warmed her heart. The beautiful, whipped girl carried confidence, taking over her unused space, filling it with promise.

Scarlett tucked her Bosch laser distance measurer back into her bag, checking her iPhone photo contained her automatic measurements. "I'll sketch an idea and call you."

Seven days later, Miss Roberts stood beside the east windows, afternoon sun rays lifting her spirits. She'd struggled to deliver discipline in her emotionless space. The elevator issued its muted tone, producing Scarlett, a huge white cardboard tube under her arm.

Scarlett grinned. "I've brought a vision. I hope you love it."

Miss Roberts smiled, Scarlett's confidence infectious.

Setting down her fat tube, Scarlett ripped off its white plastic end. She extracted her vast, colorful illustrations. She knew how it felt to face Miss Roberts. Growing her architecture practice, she'd dealt with her frustrations bent over Miss Roberts' desk. Drawing her disciplinarian's future had filled her heart, blossoming into uncontainable brilliance.

Her whipped bottom providing inspiration, she'd sketched on her computer, printing her huge dreams in gigantic size. She grabbed a chair, pulling it towards the floor-to-ceiling glass. Unfurling her first sketch, she taped it over the sunshine. Backlit, it radiated passion. Moving along, she stuck her next. Her vibrant hues uplifted the desolate space. On the west windows, she stuck different imagery, presenting a stark contrast.

Miss Roberts trembled. Stylish decor depicted calm contentment where she stood, a firmer spirit opposite.

Discarding the helpful chair, Scarlett returned. "Journey with me." Starting near the elevator, Scarlett swung left, approaching her first sketch. "Girls working from home or freelancing need creative workspaces. Co-working provides human company. You offer the highest quality human company; well-behaved girls."

Immersed in her sketch, she said, "Hard wearing modular carpet tiles endure. The unpredictable pattern of pale ruby and sand colored tiles lifts creative hearts, highlighting the solid silver zones with comfortable, bright-red winged chairs. They swivel to encourage conversation."

Glancing, Scarlett read positive body language. She continued, "Magnolia walls release your colors to speak. Black wooden planters divide areas, providing natural greenery. Glass offices afford productive space, where we reuse your existing varied blue carpet tiles to create a striking difference. Sliding glass doors deliver maximum space. A quiet workroom fills the end area. The kitchen zone contains scattered social seating, inviting collaboration over coffee. Lockers secure girls' stuff when popping out. Huge Scandinavian work tables underline your inspiring city views. Your co-working space fits two hundred girls. Their poor performance isn't a problem. Our journey continues."

Returning to the elevator, Scarlett swept them right. "A comfortable waiting room allows girls facing discipline to share their predicament. Light gray couches offer sober reflection space."

Stepping forward, she drew Miss Roberts into her five imaginary discipline suites. "Five identical discipline suites fill this side, maximizing their city views. Bent over, you feel exposed. Although it's privacy glass, clients feel judged. It increases their embarrassment."

Miss Roberts' imagination exploded. Scarlett had spun a problem into an incredible dream.

Scarlett showed her sketched furniture. "I've equipped each suite with a light gray seating area. The dark gray modern wood desk serves its expected purpose. A contemporary black wood cupboard, modeled on your original implement cupboard, contains hooks and shelves."

"What is that red object?" Miss Roberts pointed towards the discipline suite sketch. Furthest from the sketched window stood a bright red leather bench, its top curved. Four black metal adjustable legs supported it.

"A spanking bench. It's purpose designed. I've researched them. It adds a striking spectacle. Adjustable for height, it raises your bottom, making your punishment hurt more. Someday I expect to regret that inspiration."

Miss Roberts smiled. "I'll need to check it out. However, I love its drama."

Scarlett grinned. "I've one last surprise." Grabbing her almost empty tube, she led them towards the elevator, dragging a boring gray partition panel. Extracting her last drawing, she taped it to the partition, facing the elevator. "Visitors enter your discreet lobby. Left is co-working, right is discipline."

Miss Roberts blinked. A light magnolia wall spread across the sketched scene. Raised black perspex letters borrowed her meeting app's name. Across the wall it read: 'Virtue. A Girls Club - By Invitation Only'.

"It's Virtue, re-imagined," Scarlett said. "For co-working, and convenient correction. We all love your Virtue app. I've extended your brand, incorporating your discipline business."

Miss Roberts turned away, trying to hide her welling tears. Her Virtue app had facilitated fortuitous meetings between well-spanked girls. Scarlett had given 'Virtue' a physical presence.

Her disciplinarian's disguised reaction didn't fool Scarlett. She recognized when her visions landed with clients. She'd dug deep into her soul, extracting tough truths, determined to deliver for Miss Roberts.

Failing to hide her tears, Miss Roberts hugged Scarlett. "Thank you. It's perfect."

The quiet elevator announced Fernando's arrival. She'd invited his opinion. Late, it didn't matter. Scarlett had sold her. Extending her brand solved everything.

She said, "Scarlett, meet Fernando. He owns the entire building. He knows my business. Please show him the entire journey."

Scarlett repeated her presentation, visualizing chattering and studious girls, strict discipline available next door. She blushed while explaining the discipline suites. He must realize Miss Roberts spanked her.

Fernando said, "I presume you intend soundproofed walls between the discipline suites themselves, the waiting area, and the co-working space."

"Level ten acoustic foam from SoundPanel Pro," Scarlett said.

He nodded. "We use it in our residential buildings."

Miss Roberts smiled. Fernando and Scarlett spoke the same language. She studied her discipline suites. The discussion area held a light gray couch opposite a matching armchair, resembling her old front room. The bright red punishment bench drew dramatic attention. She wondered if it was appropriate. She imagined seeing it, knowing you must soon bend yourself over it. Guilt rose despite her innocence. She'd stick with Scarlett's vision.

Fernando approached, his phone glued to his ear. "My commercial fit out team can construct Virtue this weekend."

"So soon?"

He nodded.

"Okay," she said. She watched her boyfriend relay questions between Scarlett and his fit-out team. She must move her Saturday appointment with Jessica. Her long-standing, trusted client had become a partner in her corporate law firm. She disliked letting clients down. However, Jessica would understand.