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Stretched on their cream couch, Louise watched her powerful boyfriend put this cell phone on their white marble kitchen island. She owned the park-view apartment, purchased with her early sales commissions. His powerful male presence made it theirs.

Andrew crossed the open-plan living space, perching on the huge cream footstool.

She loved him sitting there. In that spot, he'd yanked her over his knee, spanking sensational orgasms into her vivid green panties. Parting her legs, he'd rained down fresh spanks on her defenseless thighs. Her abject submission to his firm hand had aroused exquisite pleasure in her magnificent body, and profound respect in her soul.

"Thank you," she said. "Hair Air is vital." She'd beseeched him to get Slack, Leigh and Wilson litigating Hair Air's urgent lawsuit. With five precious pouches remaining in her closet drawer, she deployed Hair Air only in crucial circumstances. Tomorrow evening's cocktail party at Slack, Leigh and Wilson qualified. Her first business event supporting Andrew bothered her. Successful in sales, she wasn't a corporate wife.

"You're welcome," he said. He'd cornered the head of Intellectual Property. When he'd mentioned five major venture capital houses had contributed fifty million dollars to Ben's startup company, the seasoned lawyer registered his message.

Slipping off her navy sweatpants, she lay for his enjoyment in her simple white cotton bikini panties, designated by him to discipline her. Jazzy colors had powered her sales success long before she'd met him. Red dominating, green, yellow and bright blue all starred under her smart suits, sexy skirts and tight jeans. Her recent misbehavior required a protracted period of penance. He'd ordered her into dull white panties she loathed for a week. Ending in three days' time, her heavy punishment had produced intense pleasure.

Snuggling next to her presented panties, he cupped her cotton sex. "Obedient girl," he murmured, slipping his warm hand into her white panties.

She gasped as his finger teased her demanding clit. "I'm obeying you," she panted as he circled her, speeding up with her urgent pants. "You've deprived me of my bright colors. I deserve my punishment. No prettiness for me," she panted.

"Did you remember during today?"

"God, yes. Don't stop." His finger held her on her threshold, short pants showing her precarious position. "A stunning brunette receptionist escorted me into my client meeting. Under her tight black dress, only a subtle string could survive. Beside her, my humble white panties delivered decent shame."

"You're a good girl. You're taking your punishment well."

She couldn't contain his compliment. Built up over an intense day of hidden obedience, her dam burst, firing furious orgasms into her compliant white cotton. Twisting her body to collect her torrent of pleasure, she relaxed under his benevolent hand, held in his commanding arms.

Next morning, Louise strutted along the sidewalk past industrial buildings, her burnt-orange pleated miniskirt offering pleasant teasing to her penitent white cotton bikini panties beneath. She'd considered wearing pantyhose, but vulnerability was fundamental to paying her fair penance. Anyone seeing her would expect, perhaps even imagine, cute pretty panties beneath her sexy skirt. Black would match her blouse.

Denied her delicate pleasure, a different excitement had developed. Secrecy surrounded her shame. Throughout her busy day, her boyfriend was disciplining her. She'd earned his sanction. Its reasonableness powered her penitent mind.

Arriving at the aspiring cosmetics empire, the female founder greeted her, whisking her into a mundane warehouse office. She'd purchased several items, studying their packaging. Removing eyeshadows from the flimsy palette she'd received, she'd repackaged them into one of her company's nude plastic palettes, the difference tangible to her sensitive fingers.

"I don't have long, Louise. Your message intrigued me."

Louise smiled. She placed her example nude eyeshadow palette on the desk. "I'll cut to the chase. Please feel it."

The founder picked up the nude palette. Smoothing her thumb along its edge, she said, "Soft."

"I'll spare you the boring plastic resins lesson. It just feels lovely."

"You're correct," the founder said. "Excellent eyeshadow shades."

"Those are yours. I repackaged your eyeshadows to show you an accurate sample."

The founder nodded. "I respect attention to detail. You want this sale."

"I do," Louise said. She'd won the woman's respect. Standing in her white cotton panties under her pretty skirt, self-respect suffused her. She'd earned her sale as she'd earned her punishing penance. "I'll sell you ten thousand palettes at cost because I'm positive you'll reorder. Here are our regular prices."

The founder scrutinized the presented price list, checking the volume discounts. "You have a deal, Louise."

Smiling, she said, "Thank you." Tapping her phone, she pressed send. "I've emailed you the order to sign."

"Thanks." The woman clicked on her desktop computer, adding her digital signature to the salesgirl's ready order document. "I love short meetings."

"So do I," Louise smiled.

"Lovely skirt, splendid color."

"Thank you," Louise said. "My boyfriend bought it."

"He has excellent taste."

Striding along the sidewalk towards familiar city streets, Louise registered her triumph. In dull white cotton panties, she'd gained a fresh client. Unwilling to dismiss her successful strategy of wearing bright underwear, today's sale called it into question.

Passing a luxury department store where she often shopped, desperation drove her into their white marble bathroom. Reaching the last stall, she flipped up her pleated skirt. Twisted white elastic taunted her bottom. Smoothing her punishing panties, she perched on the polished-wood seat. Shoving her hand into her obedient white cotton, her burgeoning clit celebrated Andrew's strict command of her.

Her gentle disposition had secured the sale. It was her only explanation. Her humble panties had shaved off a tiny corner of her customary confidence, replacing it with graceful humility. Aware of her underwear during the meeting, her humility had radiated from her body.

She spread her slender legs to the stall walls, circling herself hard. Struggling to control her panting, she recalled standing before Andrew, stepping into these punishing panties on his strict order. Pleasure shot to her edge. Insane bouts of beauty drove her three-inch heals into the walls. Watching white cotton tighten over her busy fist, glorious humility burst forth, pouring hours of exquisite torment into her obedient panties.

Calmed by her phenomenal public climax, she washed her hands, returning to her current concern. She had nothing to wear tomorrow evening. Required to put on white bikini panties, her tight cocktail dresses would exhibit visible panty lines, harming Andrew's professional image. Her apparent dress-sense malfunction would disqualify her as a suitable corporate wife.

She could purchase a demure dress upstairs or discuss her dilemma with Kate.

Ben was investigating a potential factory site when she arrived at Kate's convenient city apartment. Office furniture brochures overflowed her friend's coffee table.

Welcoming her steaming black coffee, Louise perched at Kate's kitchen bar, outlining her unusual problem to the friend who'd advised Andrew to cane her. Thank god he'd listened. He'd solved their early crisis by adding an amazing, sexy relationship angle. An angle she loved, even in her boring white panties.

"I won't ask why Andrew's punishing you," Kate said. "I'm glad he's created a clever concept."

Louise offered silent thanks to her sensitive friend. Punished for stealing a single Hair Air pouch, her reckless folly had proved pointless. Next day Kate had given her seven pouches.

"I have a floaty cocktail dress. It's black towards the end of my closet."

Louise discovered the stylish dress. Returning, she stripped, unembarrassed in her demure underwear with her friend. She'd bent in her purple panties before Kate, accepting the cane to show her respect for their friendship after her behavior had caused Kate to jeopardize her privacy, disclosing she received strict punishment to Andrew. Her friend's generous gesture had rescued her nascent relationship with six hard cuts of Andrew's borrowed cane. Slipping into the floaty black lace, she twirled.

"Beautiful," Kate grinned.

Louise touched the floaty lace. Flaring, it hid her punishing panties, but she preferred her tight cocktail dresses when she must impress.

Kate noticed her friend's slight disappointment. "I have an alternative suggestion."

Louise zeroed her attention towards Kate.

"Andrew imposed a fair punishment on you. However, your situation calls for compromise. Tell him your predicament. Appeal to him. He won't want your apparent dress-sense to embarrass him."

Louise sipped her coffee. "How?"

"Ask him to release you from your obligation. Andrew is fair, smart and sensible. Bargain with twelve very painful cane strokes. Soak your white bikini panties in the sink. You'll prefer warm water. Wear them for your caning. The dreadful sting lasts hours. You'll hurt under your tight dress. But caned very hard, you'll feel submissive and strong on his arm."

"Damn, I love you, Kate. I can sell him on that. It's fair. A dreadful caning may turn me into a dutiful corporate wife."

"Careful with your keenness. It's a severe punishment, worthy of escaping your remaining white panty punishment."

Louise nodded. "I'll take my punishment." Exchanging the floaty cocktail dress for her burnt-orange miniskirt and black blouse, she headed home, passionate about her plan.

In their bedroom, she studied Andrew's expression. She'd played her hand. The chips would fall as they must. If he decided her panty lines must show tonight, she'd deserve her public punishment. Her red asymmetrical fitted cami dress pointed down her right thigh, declaring extreme confidence. Her high hemline slanted towards her left leg, teasing the eye. Spaghetti straps rose over her bare shoulders, draped in her long blonde tresses. Contained in tight red material, her unashamed butt screamed its sexy presence, accentuated by sweeping lines over each cheek advertising her bikini panties. Showing Andrew her problem prevented exaggeration. She'd described Kate's dress, declared her desire to support him, and made her serious offer.

"I'd hate anything to disarm your powerful sexiness," he said. "Wives and girlfriends play inevitable power games. You're representing me, however we word it."

Her tension released, dropping her shoulders. He'd understood her concern.

"You've raised a polite objection, suggesting a reasonable solution. Six strokes is fair."

She had bet high. Prepared to pay her tough price, honor flooded her soul at his cooperative compromise. "Thank you."

"Report to the dining table when you're ready for your caning."

Stepping forward, she reached up, delivering a solid kiss.

"Awesome dress," he said.

Her step lightened by his compliment, she pranced towards their modern oak four-poster bed. Sliding her dress off, she placed it on its hanger, dangling it from the four-poster beam above her head.

In silk-colored tiles, her separate bath and glassed-in shower filled the right wall, matching her floor. Twin white marble sinks above seal brown cupboards occupied the other. Matching dark wood surrounded mirrors above their sinks. The farthest sink nearest the toilet had become hers by default. Filling it with warm water, she stepped out of her white bikini panties, admiring her naked obedience in the mirror.

Hand washing her panties through the water, she repeated her efforts, enjoying her obedient task. Soaking her white cotton to increase the pain of her punishment satisfied her craving for just restitution. Escaping her panty penance early demanded a decent price. Holding her dripping panties over the sink, she let excess water fall away. Shaking them to avoid drips on the floor, she wrestled her unwilling cotton over her thighs, easing her heavy panties up onto her hips. Transparent, her compliant cotton, offered little modesty.

Her warm panties cooled as she marched through to their dining table. On it lay their crooked-handle cane. Three feet of punishing golden rattan, she deserved.

"Did Kate suggest soaking your panties?" he asked, picking up the cane.

She nodded. "It stings much worse."

His face creased into the stern expression she recognized. Embarrassed by her humiliating panties, his tough expression straightened her spine.

"Your penance permitted you to keep your stolen pouch. These six strokes complete your punishment. Bend over."

She bent over their table, her bare breasts pressed into the oak, her wet bottom cold, drips freezing her thighs. Recalling Kate's warning, she grasped each side.

Against her wet cotton, the cane squelched. Despite the pain she endured, she loved being among crowds, knowing she was a disciplined girl. Tonight, fresh agony burning her bare cheeks, she'd feel sweet shame.

The expected room-wide crack of cane on cotton never materialized. Swift rattan slammed into her soaking sea, concentrating its charge into a single deep thud fire rushed through water. Stopped dead by the weight of her panties, the curve of the cane depressed wet cotton into her indented cheeks, shooting water into her skin. Softening her skin ahead of its penetrating pain, its fiery rattan kiss thrust deep into her prepared bottom. Squeezing her dining table, she clenched her teeth, forcing herself to accept her punishment. Devastating heat plunged deep into her backside, challenging her determination as its intensity soared in her punished flesh.

He watched excess water explode under the cane's violent impact. Her shoulders tensed, revealing her struggle. He'd felt the impact halt, delivering deep pain instead of bouncing away. Glad he'd chosen only six strokes, his instinctive foresight would still deliver extensive suffering. Concerned, he stepped forward, caressing her bare shoulder.

"Don't be nice," she groaned, teeth clenched. "This is dreadful."

Honoring her desperate demand, he leveled the cane across her wet underwear. Slicing it into her panties, he witnessed her fierce struggle. Conflicted, he sped up her suffering.

She swiveled her head, trying to dispel her agony. Fire seething through her angry bottom, her white knuckles evidenced her fierce battle. Unforgiving, the cane lashed her prominent cheeks, directing all its kinetic energy into her begging buttocks. She yelled, unable to contain her desperate fight to accept her strokes. Tossing her golden mane in her desperate bid to ease her torment, she panted hard. Neither action lessened the savage heat leaping to fresh heights in her burning backside.

Relief not forthcoming, the rattan struck the crest of her cheeks. Another scorching stroke interrupted vicious flames licking at her softened skin. Double agony chased pain into her wet bottom. A third stroke stung ruthless triple pain into her girlish flesh. Thrashing against the table, she held still, only to kick her legs. Undissipated, screaming agony seethed through her disciplined flesh. Riding her parallel applications of pain, she recognized his mercy. Awful as they struck fast, extending her ordeal would have proved worse.

"It's over," he whispered, letting her recover at her own pace.

Devastation dissipating, she respected her caning. She'd deserved a severe punishment. Her man had risen to his duty. His strength would flow from her disciplined curves tonight. She'd sit without drama, her punishing heat concentrated on the peak of her cheeks. With persistent pain for company, she'd broadcast her humble obedience.

Standing, she faced his brawny body. Respect coursed through her. "Thank you, Andrew. I needed that. A lesser punishment wouldn't have suited my request for special treatment."

"You're forgiven everything. I'm proud of you. You took your punishment well."

"I'm not sure I did. It was hell."

"Your beautiful body didn't leave the table. You're an obedient, sincere, graceful girl. I'm sorry I had to beat you hard."

"Don't apologize," she begged. "You were hard on me because I deserved it. Thank you."

He nodded. "We're leaving in one hour."