« Spanking Stories

In her converted barn, Scarlett lay in bed, vaulted dark-brown beams soaring over her. Morning sunshine celebrated her barn's glorious rural position. She'd taken today off, having remained at 'Virtue' all weekend, supporting her fit-out project. Facing reality, even her strongest designs required tweaks. Availability avoided delays. Moving position as work progressed, she'd watched the team deliver her vision.

After making Steve breakfast, she'd returned to bed. Her boyfriend worked from home. He would remain in his new home office for hours. Squeezing her butt after breakfast, he'd kissed her hard, pushing her back against their stone kitchen wall. Sliding her navy silk negligee up her thighs, he'd pressed his hardness against her. She'd removed his hand, smoothing her falling negligee.

She loved him inside her. When she needed slow, intense loving, he was her man. When she needed banging hard, he was hers. But he didn't spank her. His frustrating refusal had increased her personal playtime. Today, she needed her sexual energy for herself.  

After her Healthy Whipping from Miss Roberts, she'd worn white cotton string panties, baring her whipped bottom for his observation. Constant sex suggested she'd affected him. But, despite parading her reddened backside, he'd refused to rehash their golf club argument or discuss her punishment. At least, he'd agreed she'd been wrong.

She reached down beside her bed, picking up her silver Mac Air. Flicking it open, she navigated to her playtime folder. Hovering over her video choice, she examined each against her mood. She knew them well, their spanking theme consistent. Selecting 'Flogical', she hit play, maximizing the video player. Set to loop, she perched her laptop on her flat stomach, its volume low.

Slipping up her navy negligee, she dropped her hand into her matching silk g-string. On her screen, the familiar farm girl entered a small, rustic barn, its floor strewn with straw. Slight, her long dark hair in a ponytail, she exuded humble dignity. Her calf-length maroon skirt hung loose, concealing her curves, heightening her innocence. Facing the farmer, a young, handsome farmer, she stood awaiting his instruction.

He lifted the sleeveless shoulder of her blue cotton blouse. "Off with this, Juliet."

Juliet turned towards the camera. Unbuttoning her loose blouse, she slipped it off. The farmer snatched it away, dumping it onto a wooden bench behind him. Topless, her pert breasts broadcast a beautiful vulnerability.

Scarlett imagined herself in Juliet's position, half naked, her simple country skirt preserving minimal modesty. The farmer gripped her arm, leading her to a plain wooden chair on the straw-covered floor. Juliette straddled the chair backwards, suggesting experience. She snatched her arm. Hitching her skirt, she leaned forward onto the chair back. Tucking her arms between the chair's supports, she gripped its seat, her expression suggesting reluctant acceptance.

Viewed from behind, Juliette's hitched skirt, swarming her bottom, displayed her fit figure and gorgeous legs. Bent forward, she presented her bare back in pure submission. Scarlett rubbed her clit hard, Juliette's forced submission becoming her own.

The firm farmer grabbed his black leather flogger. Sweeping Juliette's ponytail over her shoulder, he cleared his empty canvas. Raising the short leather handle towards his shoulder, the longer leather strands flew forward, their cruel bite lashing into Juliet's bare back. Strict leather welted taut skin, echoing in the small barn, forcing frantic desire into Scarlett's sex.

Scarlett circled herself hard, certain she deserved the handsome farmer's harsh treatment. The dutiful girl stayed still. Leather lashed her sensitive skin. Redness spread under his justified strokes. Her expression betrayed her struggle. Bare-breasted, she endured her excruciating discipline in respectful silence.

Stripped and whipped, Scarlett imagined she was the farmer's daughter. Slim and slight, Juliette could be his daughter. She endured her father's whipping, sorry for her unacceptable behavior. Switching to his wife, she decided she'd failed in her domestic duties; her whipping was a reasonable result. Light cracks continued. Eight or nine strands of leather landed simultaneous strikes stinging her thin skin.

The farmer stopped whipping her, leaving her upper back branded in righteous suffering. Diagonal red welts stood visible on her bare skin. Handed her blouse, she rose, unable to soothe where she couldn't reach. Replacing her blouse over her burning back, Juliette issued a profound 'Thank you', leaving the barn, her dignity intact.

Juliette entered again. Scarlett wallowed in her imagined submission, baring her top half, straddling the chair, bending forward, and gripping the seat. She rubbed her clit, her silky navy g-string stretched over her hand. Her finger's fury matched the harsh crack of the farmer's whip across her bare back. Her shocking lack of duty towards her basic chores demanded severe discipline. Panting hard against her extraordinary pleasure, she held herself in critical denial, reveling in her compliance.

She imagined milking cows and cleaning her kitchen while her whipped back burned. Her light blouse teased her fresh welts. Moaning, she buried herself in acute submission. Poised between desperation and defiance, she watched her bedroom door swing open, expecting her tough farmer. Steve's angry expression collapsed her desire. Ripping away her hand, she relaxed her legs. The whip kept cracking across Juliette's bare back, echoing in her bedroom. She slammed her laptop shut, blushing bright red.

"Scarlett," Steve shouted.

His crisp delivery sliced her name across their bedroom. Walking towards her, he said, "Give me that."

Unable to refuse, she gave up her laptop. He opened it. Pressing play, he continued Juliette's whipping, stopping it after several seconds, his expression still furious.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I needed it."

"This morning I craved sex," he said. "You know I did. You declined. I didn't mind. Now, I do."

Shame smothered her. She looked away. "I wanted some private pleasure."

"Selfish pleasure." He placed her laptop on a nearby chair. "You turned me down to watch him."

"Her, in fact," she said. "It's her submitting to him which turns me on. I've told you getting spanked turns me on. I needed to feel it." Shame swamped her explanation.

"You batted me away an hour ago. Now, you're masturbating."

"I know. I'm sorry," she groaned, dispirited by her obsession.

He fixed her under his brutal gaze, unbuckling his belt. "Pathetic. There isn't a satisfactory excuse for your despicable behavior. Not one I'm willing to hear. You showed extraordinary contempt. Contempt for me and total disregard for our relationship."

Ripping his black leather belt from his navy chinos, he shot fear into her. She shivered. Roused by her rejection, he had every right to belt her. Acceptance dissolved into determined cooperation. Surrendering, she admired his brutality. His grim expression promised pain. She deserved it without limit.

He yanked the comforter from her, flinging it onto the floor. Exposed in her tiny g-string, her negligee hitched, bitter shame swamped her body. Doubling his belt, he aligning its smooth leather. Snapping it between his fists, he fired angry salvos into her core.

"Roll over," he ordered.

She obeyed, her bare cheeks exposed to his formidable force. His savage scolding had stung, assuring her obedience. In their relationship, harmony prevailed. She visited Miss Roberts when she needed to face home truths. Although obvious, his unexpected intent felt unbelievable.

"You need belting, Scarlett. Lie still. I'll control my anger, but not until it hurts you."

She treasured his genuine fury, promising herself she'd accept her pain, however terrible it proved. Despite her commitment, fear expanded, filling her stomach. Cloaked in uncertainty, she counseled herself. She'd lost the right to control her suffering. She must accept his judgment.

Warm air burst over her cheeks, followed by his belt. Leather-bound, his anger lashed into her bareness. Savage sting stole her breath. It fucking hurt. Absorbing his disgust, she spread serious acceptance through her core, bracing for his onslaught. The belt snapped across her skin, stinging worse with each stroke. She felt his sincerity. Fisting her hands, she shoved them beneath her pillow, praying for strength.

He belted cruel heat into her bare cheeks. Crisp cracks consumed her. Struck by his belt, fire burst into thin bands. She winced. Merciless lashes landed. Heat blossomed into pain she deserved deep. Clenching her butt cheeks, she shifted.

"Settle down, Scarlett."

She stilled, guilt thrusting sorrow to her core. "Sorry, Steve."

He paused. Raw truth screamed through her humble tone. He'd heard honest repentance. Glimpsing her world, he felt the depth of her submission. Lying bare before him, taking the pain he chose, giving herself to him without condition. Absorbing his anger, accepting true suffering to justify her forgiveness. Her red bottom broadcast ultimate respect. Respect he needed to feel. Oceans of beautiful forgiveness descended over him. He wished to blanket her with its remarkable calm. Lowering his belt, he considered her punishment. Had he belted her enough?

He ran his palm over her beautiful bottom, patterned in narrow, fiery red bands, deciding to ask. Summoning his earlier anger, he manufactured annoyance. "Scarlett. Do you deserve ten or twenty more?"

Surrendering to his soothing palm, his question rammed into her submission. Her heart answered for her. "Twenty, Steve. I'm very sorry."

He stepped back, raising his belt. "Scarlett, I'm imposing a two-week punishment period."

Absorbing his tough tone, her sex lapped it up. The belt slammed into her bottom. Vicious heat burst across her skin, turning his kind touch into flaming fury. She winced.

"During your punishment period, I'm banning masturbation. Should I catch you, I'll belt you longer and harder each time."

Damn, she loved him. Fourteen days of agonizing denial under his unambiguous authority. The belt sliced into her bottom, crossing recent strokes. Murderous sting burned deep into her flesh.

"Should you masturbate, you must confess your disobedience. I'll be lenient. Ten strokes of my belt for honesty. Hard ones on your bare bottom."

Stinging leather lashes punctuated his points. Ruthless sting buried its message deep into her backside. She bit her lip.

"Do you understand your punishment?"

Pure submission streamed into her heart. "Yes, Steve." She imagined standing before him confessing to masturbation. Humiliation overwhelmed her. She accepted the punishment he'd imposed. Joining her heart, her sex agreed to his terms. "Thank you, Steve."

Forgiveness surged in him. He set it aside. Four strokes remained.

She'd lost count. Four fast strokes landed in the same place. A devastating fire erupted across the center of her belted bottom. Coping with her agony, she heard his belt hit the floor. The mattress dipped under his knee. Sliding beside her, his hardness rammed his red and green patterned boxers against her thigh. She rolled towards him. "I'm sorry. Thank you for belting me."

"Shh," he said. "I forgive you."

Smothered by the richness of his forgiveness, she pressed against his hard body. Sliding her fingers into his tight boxers, she freed his manhood. Stroking him, she pulled aside her g-string, rolled onto her back, and fed his strength inside her. Gripping him, she thrust her hips, consuming him deep. "Thank you," she whispered.

"I've denied you masturbation," he muttered.

Her triumphant sex squeezed his hardness. "I'll obey you. If I fail, telling you will hurt. Your belt, less so."

His forgiveness rammed deep into her soul, plateauing her pleasure with perfect precision. His control exploded hers, bursting deep in her soul. She thrust her hips, taking every ounce of her well-earned gratification. Flowing into blissful calm, she settled herself beneath his comfortable weight, his warm breath panting in her ear.

He said, "There was an instant when I understood you. I felt your need. You lay taking your belting, offering only willingness, despite your suffering. Forgiveness flooded me."

Gratitude overwhelmed her. Helpless to describe her profound need, her body had told him. "You were perfect," she said. "Making me request twenty strokes was tough. It hurt to sentence myself, but I deserved it. I love you, Steve."

"I love you too," he said.

Rolling beside her, he kissed her. Soft lips delivered hard kisses, backed by his proven dominance.

His fresh learning stirred his interest in the pretty video girl's obedient submission. "Would you enjoy me whipping your bare back?"

Her sex screamed her utter submission. She said, "I deserve a tough flogging for enjoying hers."

He smiled. "While you're banned from masturbation, you'll need more sex."

She grinned. "You bet."

"We'll watch your video together. You decide when."

She almost screamed her delight. "I'd love that. Thank you."

"Not upset with me for belting you?"

"Not one bit. I deserved my punishment." She gave him a shy glance, packed with cavernous respect. "Obeying you is blissful. I feel magnificent respect. Punish me harder, if I deserve it. Thrash me. Afterwards, fuck me to kingdom come. You always reason with me. Don't. Flex your male muscles. Be unreasonable."