« Spanking Stories

Rebecca adjusted her position in her office chair, surprised that her backside wasn't sore. Mindful of Clare's ferocious hairbrush spanking last night, she'd chosen her black ruched long sleeve jersey cotton mini shift dress. Its soft tightness slid across her bottom without irritating her punishment. Her choice appeared unnecessary. Token ache existed, supplying proof of her otherwise undetectable spanking. Her clear conscience remained focused on her performance, refusing to slip towards dreams of Damien.

Approaching, Clare raised an eyebrow and tilted her head towards Damien's office. Rebecca smiled, nodding. She appreciated the respectful gesture. It proved she remained in charge of her domain, despite her spanking.

Proceeding into Damien's glass-walled office, Clare admired Rebecca's professional demeanor. Their co-workers would never suspect she'd given her beautiful friend a ruthless hairbrush spanking yesterday. She'd unlocked the underlying problem. A root cause she intended to attack. The Chief Operating Officer at FMI occupied the opposite corner to her boss, Mark. His corner view evidenced his powerful position. Closing his door, she flashed him a smile, continuing towards his glass floor-to-ceiling windows. Morning sunshine cast across her curves, as she'd intended. In her black tweed micro skirt, woven with vibrant multi-colored threads, her toned legs demanded his attention. Turning, she caught his gaze rising. It pleased her. He was a man. He should look.

"Yesterday evening, I spoke with Rebecca." She didn't explain she'd spanked her friend until tears had divulged the truth.

He nodded. "Thanks."

"We both need Rebecca flawless. I understand her problem. Damien, we're both skilled negotiators. Help me help you. I need sensitive information."

Leaning backwards, he said, "Okay, fire away."

"Toughest question first. A moment ago, you admired my bare legs. Don't lie."

Covering his blush, he nodded.

"You don't admire Rebecca's legs."

"She's my personal assistant. It's inappropriate."

"She has attractive, slender legs," Clare said.

"I haven't noticed."

"Fuck off, Damien. You aren't blind." His startled expression proved her vernacular attack had hit home.

"Maybe I've noticed, but it isn't relevant."

Clare sighed. "Imagine she approached you in a bar. Would you date her?"

He smiled. His familiar fantasy placed her on a tall bar stool, her short dress exaggerating her long legs. "I expect so."

Clare hardened her tone. "Prevarication isn't attractive, Damien."

"Okay, I would."

"Quite," Clare said, stepping towards his desk. "Given her abysmal attention to detail in recent months, she deserves a serious spanking. Don't you agree?"

"I can't," he spluttered

"Imagine you could. Would you?"

Given permission, he glanced towards Rebecca's cute side profile seated next door. Her black, ruched, long-sleeve mini shift dress was beyond sexy. "For real?"

Clare nodded, allowing his imagination to expand.

"Perhaps."

"Have you spanked a girl, Damien?"

"None of your business."

Clare studied him. Toughening her tone, she said, "Help me help you."

"Only in my dreams."

Clare exploded. "Your dreams don't help a girl. She needs reality."

"It isn't an actual solution, Clare."

His patronizing tone shot through her. "Do you reckon I've ever fucked up?"

"I doubt it."

"Don't. My first major mistake, Mark, caned me, Damien. A full-blown painful thrashing, bent over his office desk."

Damien gawped.

"You can stop imagining me," she said. "I'll tell you. He stripped me to my lacy panties, laying on his cane full force. Twelve agonizing strokes scorched my almost bare backside. It hurt beyond imagination. I felt gratitude, immense gratitude. I deserved the shame, and I deserved the pain. He was fair."

"She could sue me."

"She won't. I know Rebecca." Clare smiled. "Her recent distraction is you. She's keen on you."

"I hadn't noticed."

Clare shook her head. "Punish her for yesterday's mistake. Beat her, and I mean hard. You expect high standards. She deserves a thrashing befitting her seniority. It should leave you both exhausted. Cane her and forgive her forever. Do it, Damien."

Damien nodded. His fantasies always served up soft, willing submission, freeze-framed expressions heightening his desire as imaginary girls surrendered. Sometimes, his displeasure delivered harsh correction for grievous mistakes. Clare's intimate revelation showed reality existed. He hadn't known Rebecca fancied him. When she passed through his dreams, he rejected his disloyal fantasies, most times swapping her for vague replacements. Clare's impassioned plea matched his significant dissatisfaction with his assistant. "Okay."

Clare paced. "Damien, I'm serious. Ask her to stay late tonight. Speak to her. Scold her for yesterday. Be harsh. It won't break her. Then, be calm, kind, and tough. Bend her over your desk, and cane her, hard."

"Okay. I believe you, Clare," he said. Her detailed instructions had strengthened his resolve, her advice invaluable. "But I don't own a cane." Lowering his gaze to his desk, he muttered. "I also lack experience."

Clare stood still, her crusade halted. Obsessed with convincing him, she hadn't considered practical issues. Scrolling her phone, she dialed.

Making notes in her discipline suite, Alexandra glanced at her ringing cell phone. An exclusive ringtone announced inbound business calls. The screen displayed a tiny client summary, the green phone icon flashing below. 'Clare, FMI, Personal Assistant, 5+ years'.

Accepting the call, she said, "Good morning, Clare. I'm Alexandra for Miss Roberts." She listened to Clare's unusual request. When Clare mentioned Rebecca, she didn't respond, but it clarified matters. She'd spanked Rebecca. Clare's unexpected request would thrill Rebecca. She agreed to a 2.15pm appointment.

Five minutes away, Clare ended her call. Expecting Miss Roberts, Rebecca's recent endorsement of Alexandra had helped. The polite disciplinarian had understood her strange request, agreeing to help.

She locked her gaze on Damien. "More private revelations for you. Treat this in total confidence. Your personal assistant is a dutiful girl. So am I. We're members of an exclusive girls' club. Professional female disciplinarians punish our wrongdoing, impropriety, and transgressions with proper painful discipline. It kills guilt, resolves stress, and corrects private misbehavior." She blushed.

"You're remarkable girls," he said.

His solemn expression pleased her. She'd taken a risk confiding in him. "You're meeting Alexandra at 2.15pm. She'll teach you and provide a suitable cane." Grabbing a business card from his desk, she scribbled the Virtue address, handing it to him. "Remember. Hurt her. Make it dreadful. After you've punished her, tell her she's forgiven. Make her feel it."

He nodded. "Thanks, Clare."

She smiled. "After you've punished her, make a pass at her. Don't use vague euphemisms. You're past games. Leave no doubt."

"Thank you, Clare."

"My pleasure. Be tough on her. You'll both win."

After Clare left, Damien didn't complete a single task. He kept glancing at his assistant's svelte form. When she stood, he surveyed her bottom. In her tight bodycon minidress, its perfect shape spread the stretchy fabric in glorious triumph. Permitted to admire her, he indulged. Yesterday's quarter million mistake rankled. Harsh punishment suited. Asking Clare to supervise his assistant, he'd imagined it would embarrass Rebecca, improving her performance. Clare's plan outclassed his, quicker too. Adding a vague appointment to his calendar to explain his absence, he departed early for his lesson from Alexandra.

Arriving at Virtue at 2.15pm, he exited the elevator. A tall blonde in a short black jersey dress waited. Her ash blonde bob surrounded a professional smile. "Damien?"

Stepping forward, he nodded.

"I'm Alexandra. Nice to meet you. This is a girls' club." She gestured towards the prominent logo. "Please hurry to avoid clients."

He nodded, following her lithe figure through an empty magnolia waiting room. Ushered into a bright room, he scanned its functional furniture. A modern desk beyond a red leather bench. Vast windows provided welcoming light.

Watching him, she said, "The windows are privacy glass."

"I imagine clients are comfortable," he said.

She smiled. "Until we make them less comfortable."

He grinned. She waved him towards a light gray couch. He removed his black suit coat, folding it beside him. Seated opposite, Alexandra's beautiful legs summarized his morning. Clare's luscious limbs had stolen his attention. Given permission, he'd lavished his gaze on Rebecca's. The professional disciplinarian's legs completed his trilogy. Long plain sleeves added gravitas to her beauty, radiating gentle authority.

"Incorrect caning hurts. Exquisite caning is utter agony," Alexandra said, smiling. "Rebecca deserves an exquisite experience."

"I feel unprepared. I'm afraid I've had no experience. It's embarrassing."

"I'll teach you perfect technique. In thirty minutes, you'll feel prepared, confident, and capable."

Alexandra's certainty relaxed him. He mustn't look foolish to Rebecca. She needed him competent and committed.

"Delivering discipline is daunting until you understand it. It's about surrender. Rebecca needs to submit to your authority. She knows your instructions result in pain. Her choice to obey is an incredible gift. It takes tremendous courage. Poignant pain proves she didn't misplace her trust. It's essential. Her visible struggle honors you. She wants you to see her suffering. It's her personal commitment to you."

"Okay." He nodded. He loved her description. Beyond her eloquent words, the vision she'd painted was moving. He craved Rebecca's submission.

"To begin, discuss her mistake. Accept no excuses. Scold her."

"That, I can manage."

"Beginning actual punishment is harder," Alexandra said. "Flip the mood. Give her a simple instruction, reasonable in your specific circumstances. Order her to raise her dress or drop her pants. It's necessary anyway. Uncomfortable, it sets the stage for her continued cooperation."

"Makes sense."

Alexandra stood. "Come."

He followed her to the modern wood desk. Its solid dark gray surface contained a single item. A thin rattan cane. Its straight, golden yellow length rested with a menacing presence.

He watched her pick it up. Gripping both ends, she flexed its pliable length. In one hand, she whipped it down beside her leg, its fast arc producing a screeching whistle. His gut clenched.

Replacing the cane, she said, "You pick it up."

He did, the soft wood pleasing to his touch.

"Test its flexibility."

He repeated her action, flexing the rattan. Bending it, he released it, allowing the rod to return straight.

"Classic authority," she said. "Whip it down beside your leg."

He snapped it hard, inducing a delicious whistle.

She smiled. "You've established control."

Gripping the cane, he felt in control.

Alexandra beamed. "Rebecca has experienced phenomenal pain. Getting caned hurts beyond belief. It must. She respects her punishments. You must respect her."

He nodded. "I do." He'd never imagined her unbelievable beauty bent before the cane, holding herself accountable. He mustn't fail her. The rattan he gripped infused his confidence.

Alexandra watched his impressive torso expand, seeing respect. "Let's ensure you deliver definitive strokes she never underestimates."

She spread a thick blanket across her red leather punishment bench, adjusting its height. A three-foot wide vertical red ribbon divided the otherwise cream blanket. Under her guidance, he landed the cane tip within the red target area, never beyond. The proxy for Rebecca's bottom bore none of her gorgeous form. He applied diligent concentration to stance, technique, and grip. Over twenty minutes, aligned indentations in the red stripe showed accurate strokes.

"You're ready, Damien."

Holding his cane, he smiled.

Wandering towards the desk, she said. "A girl isn't an unresponsive wool blanket. She'll react. It isn't easy getting caned. Your confidence must reign supreme, despite her."

He followed. She turned beside her desk, facing him. "Cane me, Damien. Three strokes. You know how to begin."

Swallowing his surprise, he flexed his cane. "Raise your dress, Alexandra."

Bonus points for using her name. Her fingertips found her hem, sliding it to her waist, revealing white cotton string bikini panties. He swished the cane, transmitting wondrous vulnerability along her tiny panty strings.

Pointing to the desk, he ordered, "Bend over, Alexandra."

Adding more bonus points, she obeyed, keeping her legs dead straight. Her skimpy cotton provided minimal coverage, accentuating her bottom. The cane tapped her tight panties. Despite knowing its pain, blistering agony enraged her sensitive bottom. She panted, respecting his strong start. His second stroke scorched her skin, spreading pain far beyond her narrow panties. Fisting her fingers, brutal respect exploded. He'd hurt her. Unequivocal pain. He'd intended it to hurt. She'd felt the extra wrist flick she'd taught him.

"Alexandra. You're an incredible teacher. Thank you. I won't disrespect your lesson with generosity."

His tough tone pervaded her bent body, promising a meaningful finale. She relaxed, swamping his bonus points pot. Lightning struck across her cheeks, low where it hurt worst. Raging fire sizzled its furious line across her bare skin, praising her teaching skill. She gasped, panting hard.

"You may stand, Alexandra. Well done."

She rose. Turning towards him, she restored her dress. Reaching up, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "You've passed."

He smiled. The kiss proved his prowess.

She said, "Ten out of ten, Damien. Using my name earned bonus points. It's effective. You scolded me while you caned me. Every stroke was precise and painful. Exquisite. Keep cool and deliver. Rebecca needs you."

"Does she deserve six strokes?"

"Between six and eighteen. You must decide."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Don't scrimp," she said. "I understand her mistake was serious."

He nodded. "I need to revolutionize our professional and personal relationship."

Alexandra smiled, nodding at the implement he held. "Your cane will do it."