« Spanking Stories

Tamsin sunk into their cloud of multi-colored cushions in Jake's ute, Celine Dion's gigantic love ballad resounding in her certain heart.

Under the stars, Jake held her pulsing body, her joyous tears ebbing away. Her gentle fingers caressed his face, her featherlight touch almost imperceptible. 

"I've never seen her live, and I never will," she murmured. "Thank you. I can't believe you built a whole concert arena for me. It was amazing."

In the warm yellow glow of their battery lamp, he moved their white plastic tray tables to the side. His loading bay festooned in colored cushions beneath the clear night sky become their private cocoon.

She felt his hard body mold to her curves, his prominent hardness stretching his slim jeans shorts, pressing against her white denim clad sex. Her girl-next-door outfit suited their outdoor date to perfection.

"I love pleasing you," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. Hardening his tone, he added, "I also love spanking you." 

Her nipples rammed into her bright orange bra hidden under her matching tee. Her sex clenched, demanding he make good on his firm words.

Caressing her cheek, he said, "I'm instigating regular reminder discipline. Every Tuesday at bedtime, I'm going to belt you. You must bend to receive your reminder. Four firm strokes from my black leather belt. They'll sting for around thirty minutes, confirming you're a spanked girl. Do you understand why?"

Furious wet heat throbbed her sex. Her heart flung her arms around him. Her lips promised her compliance as her entire body replied to his question.

When she released him, he said, "Show me you understand why I'll belt you."

"It isn't punishment. It's respect. I bend on your command every Tuesday night without having done anything to deserve the pain. Your belt spanking reminds me I choose to accept your authority while proving my continued commitment."

"I didn't want any misunderstanding," he said.

"There's none. Bending on Tuesdays is a serous responsibility. I may leap all over you after you've belted me."

He grinned. Caressing her sex through her tight white denim shorts, he whispered, "You're too gorgeous to be innocent. Describe a fantasy where you imagined getting punished. Be warned, tonight you'll feel actual sting." 

Spinning her mental store of fantasies, she worshipped his offer. Actual events delivered her fiercest orgasms. She'd often augmented her reality with harsh punishment, enhancing the original outcome in her memory.

"Toward the end of high school, I got weekend punishment detention," she said. "I'd claimed a muscled Ford Mustang boy. My classmate Fern, a pretty blonde, threw herself at him."

He smiled. 

"Don't laugh. It was war. I confronted her and slapped her. A furious swat on her cheek. She landed a savage blow with her open palm. It stung like fuck. Her home tutor caught us. I'd chosen the worst corridor for our fight. Her red cheek evidence, we both got punishment detention."

"You earned it," he said. "Where was detention?"

"The school auditorium, supervised by the quite gorgeous vice-principal." She grinned. "I deserved punishment. If he'd offered hard swats, I'd have leaped at it. I occupied three excruciating hours of unmitigated boredom, imagining him paddling us over the central desk."

"What were you wearing?"

"Skinny jeans and a white blouse. My jeans were low. When he bent me across the desk, my panties showed. I was wearing white cotton. I didn't allow myself to pretend they were sexy instead. Fern, witnessing my ordinary panties on display, added to my shame. I took my swats with calm dignity, but they hurt me. Struggling with the vicious pain, I pretended that he'd warned me about my behavior, hence ten hard swats."

"Fern deserved ten swats too," he said, stroking her sex through her shorts, teasing his fingers down her bare thighs.

"I sat embarrassed and sore, my butt scorching my seat," she panted, his hands encouraging her recollected fantasy. "He called Fern up, bent her over his desk and thrashed her. I pretended her panties were small. She yelled, beseeching him to stop."

He grinned. "I plan to buy a huge wooden paddle to roast your jeans. You need to prove you could have taken your ten fierce swats."

"I deserve it," she moaned, forcing her sex hard against his hand. "But you haven't got a paddle, tonight."

"Tonight, I'll belt you, hard, for getting into trouble at school."

"I pretended my dad belted me when I returned from weekend detention."

"Your parents didn't punish you?"

"No. My mom asked me if I'd learned my lesson."

"Was it a severe belting?"

She nodded. "Pretty severe. I imagined my butt too sore to sit."

He kissed her, his tongue teasing hers, promising kindness alongside tough punishment. Pulling back, he ordered, "Climb down."

Delicious fear quivered through her core as she obeyed. Standing behind his ute, she watched his muscular legs clamber down beside her. Her six-foot symphony of broad shoulders, dark hair, and blue eyes was coming to belt her. Every flex of his sinewy muscles ordered her obedience.

"You deserved your paddling in detention," he thundered. 

In her mind, her bottom burned from her severe school sanction. Shivers coursed through her spine.

"You need belting. I won't permit you to slap another girl, whatever your reason. Getting paddled at school shows you need tougher discipline at home."

The light cast across his stern face as he scolded her. Her cheeks flared, and she dropped her gaze to the uneven ground.

"Hand me your shorts and tee," he ordered.

Unsnapping her shorts, she pushed them down, stepping each sneaker from her white denim to keep them from falling on the dusty ground. Passing him her shorts, her blatant submission flooded her in humility.

"And your tee," he commanded.

Lifting her bright orange tee over her head, she gave it to him, watching him pile her clothes on the mattress. Stripped to her orange bra and pretty black bikini panties, she shuddered.

His white tee, stretched over his muscled chest, guaranteed her belting would hurt. Unhooking his loose-fitting shiny black leather belt, he ripped it free of his denim shorts. Pointing to his ute's open tailgate, he commanded, "Bend over, Tamsin."

She faced their cushioned comfort. Her eyes dropped to the black plastic surface. Placing both palms flat on the tailgate, she lowered herself onto her hands. The low truck presented her bottom high and her legs straight. Shifting her feet apart deepened her humility. Surrendering over his symbol of male power tensed her steamy sex.

His leather rested on her black cotton, teasing across her geometric white patterns and whisking away from her white and orange lace trim as he measured his stance. Proud of her perfect underwear, she loved that her prettiness offered no mercy.

She'd never received a belting. Bending over her parent's kitchen table in her dream, she shifted her scene to their garage, imagining herself bent over their SUV trunk. Replacing her entire premise, her boyfriend, furious with her high school behavior, bent her over his ute. Her bottom in the correct place for her dreams, her heart promised her deepest obedience.

A serious crack breached the outback night air. Fierce sting burst across her bottom. The sharp retort gripped her as heat scorched her deserving cheeks. Leather lashed her disobedient bottom, firing hot pain into her soft cheeks. She reprimanded herself for her disgraceful slap. Her boyfriend was right to discipline her. Getting the vice-principal's paddle embarrassed her. Her school had needed to give her a formal thrashing.

"I won't stand for you getting paddled at school."

His harsh tone burned fear into her heart as his belt laid on deserved lashes. Fresh sting burst on unbelted skin, spreading the leather's fiery kiss. She panted, taking his fearsome strokes into her heart and expunging her lingering guilt. Even though her school hadn't paddled her bottom, her gross disobedience still warranted a parental belting.

Her meagre cotton protection ensured Jake's belt hurt. Bursts of intense pain launched seconds apart, stoked the fire rampaging in her punished cheeks. Shame engulfed her. She'd slapped Fern, a full force assault on the girl's cheek. She hoped Fern had a boyfriend belting her as hard.

"Fighting is weak. Use words to cut down your competition, not violence."

She wished he'd been her high school boyfriend. Forced to belt her, he'd have supported her. She pressed her palms down, struggling under the belt's cruel kiss. Delicious heat swamped her sex, melting pleasure into her pain.

Gasping as heat suffused her skin, she struggled to handle her hurt as his muscular biceps, built to belt a girl, stung her bare bottom below her panties with unbearable force. Willing herself, she stayed still under his severe punishment as he layered hard lashes into her girlish flesh.

"You're a good girl, Tamsin. This has to hurt you."

His kind authority stung her soul as he lashed her tender crease. Powerful impacts burst distress across her delicate skin. Respect poured from her heart. This was the belting she'd received in her dreams. Years old guilt evaporated under his sincere thrashing.

"I'm sorry," she cried, her two words bursting with sincerity.

Her pain paused. Warm night air swarmed her belted bottom. His hand soothed her stinging skin, caressing each cheek as he slid his fingers over her fiery panties, tantalizing her punished flesh with tenderness. 

"Six last strokes. I know you hurt, but you deserve no mercy."

Thwacking into her thin cotton, loud cracks accompanied powerful strokes as he thrashed her deserving bottom. She gasped as fire licked her panties. Pride poured from her pain. He was right to ignore her apology. Getting paddled at school demanded severe discipline at home. Her bottom would punish her all night, as it should. Panting away her pain, sting blossomed in her belted backside as silence surrounded them.

"You may stand, Tamsin."

His voice compelled her to her feet, her backside burning as she turned towards him, her eyes downcast. His firm fingers beneath her chin lifted her face. 

"I punished you because I adore you."

Flung from his eyes, lust landed in hers.

He drew her into his chest, stroking her bare back. "Beautiful underwear."

Her vibrant bra and panty set suited her orange tee. Under her girl-next-door white denim shorts, her sexy underwear had thrilled her. Exposed for his pleasure, she felt sensational. She nestled into his solid chest, his warm palms on her bare back emphasizing his sublime authority over her.

"I'm looking forward to Tuesday," she whispered.

"Good girl. Even if I've caned you a minute before, you'll get your reminder."

Her heart pounded. Given the chance for leniency, he hadn't wavered. She pressed her sex against his rampant hardness. "I love you being hard on me."

Grinning, he scooped her up, placing her on the mattress.

Placed for his pleasure, she scampered up the mattress into their cocoon of cushions. His hand planted on the tailgate as he leaped up, pursuing her. He shoved his knee-length denim shorts down, ripping his tight tee from his powerful frame. His manhood stretched his tight, white slip briefs. She loved their tiny failure to contain him.

Kneeling beside her, his hard body rose over her. She scuttled under him. His hardness burst from his underwear as he shoved them down. She guided his manhood to her desperate sex. Tucking her fingers under her lace trim, she snatched her panties aside, feeding his throbbing hardness into her greedy sex. She gave herself to his slow, teasing entry, thrilled by his control of her.

Unsnapping her bright orange bra to free her screaming nipples. she arched her back, impaled on his hardness. Tortured by his firm fingers, her brittle nipples begged. She gasped as his manhood thrust deep into her sex. "You're a tough man, Jake."

"It's what you need," he grunted.

Her stinging bottom scraped the blanket, permeating her pain, confirming his truth. "You hurt me," she whispered.

"You needed me to," he growled.

"I took my belting," she cried, the night seizing her proud admission as her body urged him to pierce every vestige of her resistance. Her panties irritated her belted bottom as his thrusts tightened her cotton. Gorgeous discomfort pleased her disciplined brain. "You'll belt me every Tuesday just because I'm your girl."

"Four firm strokes. Enough to sting."

Lowering onto his side, he pulled her against him. His hands cradled her head, warm thumbs slipping over her soft cheeks as he plunged his commitment deep inside her sex. His tenderness blanketed glory over her soul. Her nestled head sought his hands, her cheeks craving his gentle thumbs. 

"What if one Tuesday we're not together?" she panted.

"No exceptions," he grunted.

His firm statement slammed into her conscientious mind, exploding her fragile sex, launching cascading orgasms, crashing her hips against him as he detonated into her stream of desire. Observed by the wilderness, she succumbed, granting her utter surrender, giving her soul to her generous man.

"If my parents visit, I'll be at home on a Tuesday."

"If you're lucky, Diane will distract your parents, otherwise they'll hear you get belted."

"You mean it, don't you?"

He stroked her cheek. "Don't hide from who you are. You can't negotiate your discipline."

Despite dangerous complications, she loved his enduring firmness. He'd embarrass her if he must, but on Tuesdays he'd belt her at bedtime.

Tugging on his tight undies, he drew their pile of sleeping bags over them. "Did Diane cane you sometime?"

Blushing miles wide, she said, "It's private. I was a heinous friend. She thrashed me to mend our friendship. I deserved it. She was generous, giving me a fair resolution."

"I suspected when you provided canes for your work punishment. Would you cane Diane?"

"If needed," she said.

He smiled. Their mutual recognition of proper discipline had kept excellent order between them.

Snuggled under their mountain of sleeping bags, she fell asleep, exhausted by Celine Dion, her powerful belting, their passionate sex, and her realization that she loved him.

Her heart sang her awake as dawn spread over their remote wilderness, desert heat powering through their pile of sleeping bags. Locked in his arms, she'd achieved perfect rest and a sharp mind. She kissed him awake, spreading love on his lips so he could taste her wonderful morning.

Delivered home, Tamsin headed into her bedroom, recounting her date to Diane. In uniform, her friend followed, desperate for details. Diane teared up when Tamsin described the deep bass beat as Celine Dion burst into the starry night.

"He loves you. You realize?" Diane said.

"I love him," Tamsin said. "But I haven't told him."

"Did he punish you?"

Tamsin shucked her shorts, pushing down her panties to reveal her belted bottom.

"Was it wonderful?" Diane asked.

Tamsin nodded, turning into Diane's hug.

"I'm happy for you," Diane said. "Now, get showered. We're flying today."

Tamsin wrapped her glorious long black hair into her shower cap, its silky texture too wonderful to wash.

Diane spun to leave.

Tamsin said, "When you next talk to your friend Kate, please beg for more Hair Air, whatever it costs."