« Spanking Stories

Diane, Tamsin, and Jake carried satellite phones, cell phone coverage non-existent in Limit Creek. Keeping their iPhones on home Wi-Fi, their bulky sat-phones were always close. On their hangar crew room window sill, Jake's rang unattended.

Parking his forklift, Jake climbed down. When his bosses were flying, he monitored his phone. Bright orange emergency beacons, clipped to their waists, would send dire emergency signals to distant rescuers via satellite, but in the remote outback, he was their immediate lifeline.

He glanced at his neat stacks of timber bundles. Delivered by massive road trains to Nullabull, six hours' drive away, Billy's smaller truck hauled their construction materials alongside supplies for Mrs. Fraser's General Store, parcels, and post.

Grabbing his black metal flask from the fridge, he poured cold water down his throat, scanning his phone screen. He'd missed a call from the Australian airline whose Air Operator Certificate covered their legal requirements. Diane liaised with them. Unreachable when flying, many calls fell to him. He listened to the message.

Six miles away, four thousand feet above, Tamsin reduced thrust on her ceiling mounted power levers. Concerned they had become routine, yesterday Diane had ordered practice. Simulating engine failure in their Twin Otter, they'd sharpened their skills. Throwing an unexpected spanner into their works, her captain had pretended they had a fire onboard. While Diane flew, she'd worked their checklists, isolating circuits, preserving their aircraft. Routine was the enemy of excellence.

On the apron, Tamsin spun their aircraft. Parking for reloading, she shut down their twin engines.

As they disembarked, Jake called, "Diane, I got a phone message requesting your recent flight reports."

Chills raced through Diane. She muttered, "I'll check into that." Heading towards their crew room, she averted her gaze from her co-workers.

Tamsin watched Diane walk away, puzzled by her captain's strange reaction. Her subconscious analyzed the anomaly while she helped Jake load packs of timber connectors onto their plane. Joining timber joints, the steel brace brackets reinforced structures. Jake explained their purpose while she puzzled over Diane's ashen face. Her friend had appeared distracted, an unseen concept in Diane. Chewing through choices as Jake explained wooden building structural integrity, she recognized Diane's reaction. Shame. Her captain was ashamed. She checked their cargo straps twice. "Jake, Diane might need your help."

"Okay, I'll go check."

She shook her head. "I mean, she may need punishing."

"She's our boss. I can't just thrash her. She must request it, giving me clear responsibility. She did before."

Tamsin's sex served up her memory of obeying him beside Diane. She wiped her mind, dismissing her sex. Familiar with female struggles, she recognized her friend's dip into embarrassed shame would have sunk her spirits. Stewing in her quagmire, it wouldn't prove easy to request the strict spanking she needed. Her friend needed Jake to impose it on her.

"Sometimes, asking is difficult," Tamsin said, broadcasting frustration. Her thoughts chasing, she described Diane's driven attitude to Jake. Her basis established, she expanded on how her friend's minor failure must feel colossal. She explained her successful captain's publicized mistake would have swamped Diane in overwhelming embarrassment. An embarrassed girl overanalyzed under her weight of shame.

In the crew room, Diane checked her email, her laptop balanced on her knees. She knew she hadn't emailed their flight reports. She'd plain forgotten. Neil's marvelous news had thrown her. He'd deserved job recognition for years. His appointment at Hair Air had thrilled her. Sharing their elation, they'd talked for three nights, mornings, for him. She'd drained him of details, overjoyed to hear his literal overnight rise. His fabulous news had cut across her official seven-day operating cycle.

She'd failed to email their flight reports to the local airline, whose air operator certificate covered their legal operation. They wrote diligent flight reports every time they landed home. Crucial to their command structure, their flight reports traveled onward to Diamond Cross Air headquarters, where she imagined the chief pilot might sometimes read them. Their project manager did. He'd told her he studied every report.

Sending their missing flight reports, she included a brief apology note. Staring at her screen, she searched for an administrative task rather than face her co-workers, her management deficiency broadcast. Her gaze vacant, her mind crowded with her failure. Everyone relied on her.

Jake entered, heading for the fridge. She watched him grab his water bottle.

Motivated by Tamsin's entreaty, Jake sipped his water, observing his boss. Tiny red spots sprung onto Diane's cheeks, her eyes on her screen. Recognizing shame, he marveled at Tamsin's flawless forecast. She'd begged him to judge the situation.

Replacing his black metal canteen, he crossed the hangar. Taking their two canes from the cleaning cupboard top shelf, he returned to Diane, putting them on the low fridge. She remained concentrated on her screen.

"In five minutes, if you're here," he said, "I'll cane you." Returning to Tamsin in the hangar, he explained his invitation. She delivered a solid, approving kiss.

Diane glanced at the canes. Their authority calmed her. She hadn't a single doubt she deserved punishment. Her heart applauded his kindness. To receive her punishment, she need only let inertia take its course. Her gold striped epaulettes demanded a stinging bottom. Her crisp white shirt defined her usual professionalism. Straightening her clip-on black tie, she rose, smoothing her black cotton uniform pants. Jake had made her drop her pants when he'd caned them together, bent over the fridge. She imagined the same humiliation was fast approaching.

She hoped Tamsin would return with him. Dispensing her punishment was an intimate exercise. She'd prefer his girlfriend witnessed his honest dedication. Getting her bottom caned with her co-pilot as witness suited her phenomenal unprofessionalism.

Entering the crew room, Tamsin smiled at Diane. She'd figured her presence was appropriate, adding fair humiliation to her friend's necessary pain. Jake followed.

Selecting their slender cane, he said, "Diane."

His resolute tone stood her before him, respect pouring off her.

"You neglected your basic management task. You've corrected your mistake, I presume."

"Yes, sir," she replied. Forced to respond, his firmness evoked deference.

"I'd like to hear your excuse."

Appreciating his dressing down, she admitted her focus on Neil's triumph had distracted her.

"I accept your explanation, but not your failure."

Her spirit soared. He shouldn't accept her failure. Not for one second. He must crush it with strictness.

Flexing the slender cane between his palms, he commanded, "Drop your pants."

Facing him, disgrace drowned her as she undid her thin black Milan leather belt. Pushing her uniform pants to her knees, she stood, her white cotton bikinis on display beneath her matching white short-sleeve shirt.

"Face the window, and touch your toes," he ordered.

Tamsin's eyebrows shot up.

Diane turned, bending deep to obey his stern command. Her fingertips touched her black sneakers, their only uniform compromise for their harsh conditions. Black flats couldn't survive dirt airstrips.

Her panty clad bottom raised in capitulation, her position fit her mood. Grateful he'd seen her need, she straightened her legs, determined to take her discipline. A caning hurt. She wished for a tough ordeal. She felt she'd put him out on top of her paperwork failure.

"Six hard strokes, Diane. Count and thank me for each stroke."

Damn, he was merciless. Her desire for punishment escalated as the stick rested against her presented panties. Rattan impacting cotton shot across the room, deflecting off their thin walls. Denting her tight panties, its fiery impact pressed need into her soul, scorching her cheeks. Straining to conceal her gasp, she said, "One. Thank you, sir."

The cane seared a line high on her bent backside. Heat intensified into an inferno as its pain grew to extreme agony. Keeping her fingers on her sneakers, respect flooded her. His strokes were hard, delivering necessary cruelty. "Two. Thank you, sir."

She pictured her two crimson stripes burning beyond her narrow panties. Tamsin was witnessing her shame marked on her punished bottom. Her friend's diligent flight reports had got delayed by her incompetence.

Gritting her teeth, severe strokes punished her management performance. Answering to his applications of serious pain, she meant her thanks. His diligent stripes hurt her. Long after their cruel arrival on her skin had stung, their messages burned side by side, boosting her agony.

Six lessons lining her stinging bottom, she remained touching her toes without permission to rise.

"Diane, you should have asked me straight to cane you. You created a tricky situation."

Regret saturated her. Consumed by cowardice, she'd been unable to ask for her punishment. Needing discipline alongside Tamsin, she'd found it easy. Facing punishment alone, embarrassed by her personal deficiency, she'd retreated, powerless to act. Bent in obedience, her ears confirmed her restricted view. He'd swapped canes.

"Two severe strokes."

She nodded, proud of his stiff penalty. "Jake, you've been kind. Sorry I was weak. You've shown incredible strength and wisdom. Please make these strokes really hurt me."

"Good girl," he said.

His genuine, unconsidered approval reached her humble mind as the heavy rattan rested against her narrow panties. Positioned low where it would sting while she flew this afternoon, she welcomed its meaningful presence.

Heavy thwacks filled their crew room as the cane buried itself in her almost bare backside. Singeing her skin, agony exploded as he thrashed her second stroke without delay, penetrating pain into her lower butt. She stamped her feet, holding her fingers in place as his sincere thrashing stormed into her. Pain deepened as heat rose. Her inferno praised his self-respect, punishing her weakness. She was their leader. At her lowest moments, she must rise above herself.

"Stand when you're ready."

Unembarrassed facing him in her panties, she appreciated how hard he'd humbled her. "I'm sorry Jake. Thank you for being hard on me."

"Pull up your pants. You're released, boss."

Meeting his smile, she beamed. "You're a good man, Jake."

Tamsin stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her friend.

Diane whispered, "Sorry, I screwed up."

"Shh, your bottom has done all your apologizing." Feeling her friend relax, Tamsin said, "We need to leave for Ruby Downs in five minutes. Lucky I'm flying. You can wriggle sore in your seat."

In bed that evening, Diane remembered her uncomfortable day in her white cotton underwear. Tamsin was at Jake's house. She hoped her friend was thanking him for his exemplary spanking services. This afternoon, Tamsin had taken their controls. Navigating, she'd wriggled, unashamed beside her co-pilot. She'd figured it out half-way to Ruby Downs. Challenging Tamsin, she'd thanked her friend for sending Jake to deal with her.

Checking the time difference, she called Neil. His street noise woke up her quiet outback bedroom. "Where are you?" she asked.

"Walking to the office. I get off the metro early to enjoy the business district."

His cheerful voice soothed her stinging bottom. Sliding her fingers into her panties, she listened as he described his day ahead. She glided her fingertip along her slit. Her clit responded to his trusted tone. Circling herself harder as his surrounding streets grew louder, she gasped, a sudden surge stealing her concentration.

"Are you?"

"Yes," she gasped. "I love your voice. I called just to hear you talk to me." Panting on their open line, she said, "Keep talking."

He said, "Um. I'm heading to my office. It's busy around me."

She didn't care what he said. His tone filling her ear, balanced her pleasure against her edge. She eased her expert fingers from full throttle.

"Have you been behaving yourself?" he demanded.

His insightful question met her urgent need. "No."

"Tell me," he commanded.

His tone hard, her sex tilted towards her final approach. Backing off her power, she admitted her management mistake and her embarrassing lack of guts. Confessing as she kept her sex in gorgeous abeyance, she decided she must place herself under his direct command, denied her climax until he granted her permission.

"How many?" he demanded.

"Six strokes," she panted, "for my mistake." Her stinging stripes against her sheet drove her against her dangerous limit. "Tell me when I can come," she begged. "Don't make it easy."

"I won't."

His two tough words promised an extensive period of tremendous obedience.

"There's more, isn't there."

His calculated guess demanded reverence. "Yes, Neil. I received two strokes of the punishment cane. It's heavy. It hurts deep. I'm very marked."

"Because you were weak?" he asked

"Yes. I shouldn't have put him in an awkward position. Tamsin persuaded him to punish me."

"You deserve your result."

She heard crowds around him. Imagining them aware of her serious strokes, her sex trembled, her runway in sight. Panting hard, she couldn't hide from her boyfriend.

"I haven't given permission," he warned.

"I haven't come," she vowed.

"Good girl."

His praise sent her throttle back to maximum power. "I'm sore," she said.

"No sympathy. You deserve it."

His harsh words hardened her pressure, urging her climax. Rolling onto her knees, she pleasured her sex against her pillow's edge, teasing her begging clit. Driving herself to a desperate climax, she disobeyed him. Exploding, she held her phone against her ear, powerless to keep her disobedience secret. Pressure dissipating from her phenomenal climax, her honor hurt.

"Not obedient," he scolded.

"I'm sorry. So Sorry."

"You will be. Next time we video that is going to cost you. But I have to get to my desk. I've been on the sidewalk for ten minutes."

"Sorry," she said, grinning.

"You don't sound it."

"I'm not. That was fabulous. Thank you. I'll sleep like a baby."

"My day might not feel relaxed."

"Oh dear," she grinned, thrilled she'd excited him with her horny pleasure.

"You'll pay for it," he warned.

"I hope so."

Showering, her cane stripes stung under their wet assault. In fresh red and green striped panties, she padded to the kitchen. Snatching three Tim Tam biscuits from her open fridge packet, a trio of infusions pulsed chocolate pleasure. On each foray, sweet chocolate cream teased her tongue, sealed between chocolate biscuits, begging for release. Covered in textured milk chocolate, she discovered secret satisfaction. Her bottom stinging and a paddling promised, she deserved three.