« Spanking Stories

Ten thousand miles from Outback Australia to Neil's ear didn't diminish Diane's joyous shriek. "Oh, my god. I bet you're stoked."

"The market rate is six times my former salary. I'll need every ounce of my tech skills," Neil said, heading towards the metro.

Last night, Ben's urgent call had revolutionized his long-stalled career. Ditching his irritating IT support job, he'd accepted Ben's formal job offer. As Chief Technical Officer of Hair Air, he'd deploy his extensive tech expertise. Hand-holding computer users, devising secure video conferencing, producing slick website and phone apps, his years of self-motivated personal advancement had won its eventual reward. Ben's faith.

His friend had revealed the lawsuit, disclosing its inherent risks for Hair Air. He'd known Ben forever. Ben would bulldoze his way forward, refusing to fail.

Kate had called him minutes later, listing her tech concerns with their office fit-out. Discovering cables dangling from an enormous wall TV, she'd enquired their purpose. The unsatisfying reply proving someone skilled must oversee their technology, starting today.

Spinning off the sidewalk through one of four revolving doors, Neil entered the towering lobby of 1160. Sky high shiny silver panels lined walls and ceiling. In his eye-line, massive white illuminated numbers confirmed he'd arrived at 1160.

His previous office conditions bore no resemblance to his present reality. His clothes bore no resemblance to the prestigious office lobby. Kate had ordered jeans, leggings, shirts, ordinary clothes. She'd banned slogans, suits, ties, and khaki. Diane had applauded his pink shirt and jeans, amused to hear her friend's office dress code.

Approaching a striking blonde lobby receptionist, his name produced a black visitor key fob and directions to the elevator bank. Arriving on floor nine, an unmanned rosewood reception counter greeted him. Ceiling spots brightened the gray carpet. Black leather armchairs and couches sat twelve, all occupied. Wires snaked across the carpet, powering laptops on knees.

"Hey, honey," an older lady called.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Neil. I'm looking for Kate."

"Join the crazy queue," she grinned. "She's in extraordinary demand. Everyone is new. Tell us your role."

"Chief Technical Officer."

Twelve heads raised. "Internet's out," she explained. "Can you fix it?"

"Anyone able to direct me towards your equipment?" He watched the employees relax. Putting computer users at ease was familiar territory.

The older lady, their office manager, escorted him to a corridor cupboard beyond which offices appeared fit for occupation. Frowning into the cupboard, he stared at the unbranded, unrecognizable router. Recognizing cost cutting, he prayed it wasn't Kate's choice.

"How strong is the Wi-Fi signal in reception?"

"Rubbish."

He nodded, booting his MacBook Pro. She provided the Wi-Fi password. Failing to login as expected, he restarted the router. Succeeding after its reboot, he said, "This equipment can't service twelve distant users. It's cheap."

Returning from inspecting level twelve, Kate crouched beside her graphic designer and marketing manager, stuffed into their ninth floor reception beside finance. Charged with creating early ad campaigns for Hair Air, she'd nixed models from their previous plan, demanding girl-next-door beauty. Choosing their office in her sports bra and training pants had reminded her their customers were ordinary girls. Presented with relatable billboard designs, her heart leaped towards the pictured girl.

Standing, she let others view their marketing vision. Balancing hiring with office fit-out, she'd danced between decisions. Employees arrived, hired by her, Ben, or their CFO. In command of chaos, Ben's painful early co-founder lesson had forced her to seize her exciting mantle.

Tempered with strict discipline, her power was addictive. She allowed herself to enjoy decision making. Ben had given her a valuable tip. She didn't seek to confirm her decisions; she probed the splendid possibility of her opposing options. It led to decisive conclusions. Knowing he'd spank her for foreseeable mistakes made failure palatable, relaxing her into her decisions.

Her Human Resources manager, Belle, in mat black coated skinny jeans, bent to examine the proposed poster. Kate appreciated Belle's sensational butt. Together, they'd resolved dress code, grievances, benefits, and their disciplinary process. The employee handbook was almost ready.

Switching from floor plans to employee discipline, she'd imagined bending over glossy white meeting tables, Ben's large desk, her own. The black kitchen benches had promised substantial public shame. She'd resisted adding corporal punishment to the employee disciplinary process, but casting her gaze over Belle's contoured bottom, she imagined her bent over Ben's desk. His mature business lesson had benefitted her. Perhaps he should deploy his technique with their female senior management.

Her eye caught Neil entering from the corridor. She smiled. Relaxed, he already appeared in control. "Give your opinion," she said, pointing towards the group surrounding their graphic designer's laptop.

Studying the screen, he said, "Girls are all beautiful." Winning awards with his effortless charm, he added, "She looks normal."

Kate smiled. Neil's opinion matched those already expressed.

Her marketing manager glanced at her. In blue skinny jeans, the girl personified their girl-next-door image. "Shall we expand this concept?"

Confident in the diverse group's approval, Kate smiled. And delegated. "You decide."

"Ah, Kate," Neil said.

She shifted her focus.

"Our internet router is useless. The tech plans you emailed need overhauling."

She loved hearing 'Our' from his lips. His report wasn't news. The fit-out company had cut costs where her experience was weakest. Hiring Neil, she'd warned their CFO expenditure was coming. She connected them together.

Borrowing steps, Neil raised ceiling tiles, routing network cables above the workstations on the ninth floor. Rows of pale wood desks filled the floor, low gray partitions between facing rows. Black mesh swivel chairs, four feet apart, divided by draw units, defined positions.

Repositioning ten cheap routers in the ninth floor suspended ceiling, he drowned the desks in temporary internet coverage. The CFO had approved his rapid calculations. He'd called the company who configured networks for the corporate clients he'd once supported, engaging them to re-wire their four floors.

He'd inspected their entire space. The ninth floor, designed for senior management, would receive general use this afternoon. The stunning twelfth floor, containing the main reception, would open soon. Levels ten and eleven would serve expansion. In seven days, every floor would bathe in splendid, high-speed, high-quality Wi-Fi.

Coming down his borrowed steps, the office manager approached him, waving at the corner nearest their chaotic reception. "We're meeting Ben in that conference suite in thirty minutes."

Guided towards his own office, Ben admired the smart decor, practical carpets, pale desktop and Kate. Grinning at his co-founder, he said, "This is fabulous, Kate. Thank you." His black executive chair squished with pleasant comfort as he sat in his commanding space. "You've done an incredible job."

Letting go of her held breath, his solid judgment endorsed her weeks of fun, sometimes tough, decision making.

"KRT deposed me today," he said. "My performance pleased our legal team. KRT landed no significant points. I remained cool as a cucumber."

Kate grinned. "They're the ones trying to steal your intellectual property. You've nothing to fear."

"KRT dumped a lorry-load of paperwork for discovery. Our lawyers are combing it for their magic bullet. I reckon they're concealing their non-existent case."

Placing her laptop on his desk, she presented their employee list. "This is our team, including the chemists you've hired for the special serum factory."

He'd handed his serum factory, leased thirty minutes away in Ridge Hill, over to his head chemist. Guided by their factory consultant, production lines were taking shape and internal walls erected. Still packed in crates, their experimentation lab pleased him.

He poured over her employee spreadsheet. Its cost summary provided clarity. He scanned the structure of her columns. "Great key employees. Tiny teams. Our leaders must hire larger teams. The CFO has one accountant. You need to encourage them to hire. Replicate and delegate."

Under his criticism, she stiffened her spine, glancing towards the high wooden cupboard behind him. Her best wasn't enough. She must replicate her hiring approach, passing it on.

Ben's relaxed confidence spread through the twelve seater conference room. He welcomed his staff to Hair Air, introducing himself. Seated or leaning on walls, his team loved his story of raising money, weaponizing the powerful venture capitalist's female staff against him, giving them Hair Air and letting the men observe their excited women jostling before the female restroom mirror.

Learning from his fifty-million-dollar party piece, he gave a pouch of Hair Air to every female, suggesting they try it tomorrow.

After their team departed, Ben toured their empty floors with Kate. Thrilled by the twelfth floor terrace, he embraced her vision. Passing unfilled executive offices on the ninth floor, she scanned rows of desks. Everyone had left.

In his office, flush pale wood cupboards, matching her color scheme, covered the wall behind his chair. Pointing to the high, horizontal cupboard above his central shelves, she said, "Open that cupboard."

Rising on gas struts, it stayed open. Smiling, he withdrew a pale yellow rattan cane. Only a crimson bow encumbered its straight three-foot flexible length.

She smiled. "I may deserve another executive lesson." She'd bought the cane yesterday, storing it this morning after workmen had left his office.

Sliding his fingers along the smooth rattan, he considered her performance. Their office and assembled team were brilliant. She deserved all her credit. However, for his co-founder, brilliant wasn't enough.

"You've done a fantastic job. But you've failed to teach your leaders to build their teams."

His fingers loosened her gift bow, showing his serious intent. His praise blended with his scolding brought her to heel. She was in her CEO's office, standing before his desk, deserving of the cane he held.

"Brilliant isn't enough, Kate."

Praise again poured through her body. Mixed with his resolute tone, it drove strict obedience into her moist sex.

"You should have encouraged your leaders to expand their teams, replicating and delegating your excellent hiring skills."

Mixed with his stern rebuke, his praise made her sex plead for the cane.

"I'm sorry, sir. I understand."

"Six sound strokes to concentrate your mind on your purpose."

His solid sentence, delivered in his office, powered her straight over his desk. She bent forward, reaching across.

He smiled at her readiness. The red Levi tab on her butt pocket drew attention to her tight wedgie jeans, which had driven him to distraction since he'd arrived.

"Not so fast, Kate. You know better. Drop your jeans."

"Oh, of course, sir. Sorry."

She stood, unbuttoning her tight wedgie jeans. They emphasized her curves, lifting her butt. With her pink and gold striped rugby top, they felt incredible. Persuading her tight denim over her hips, she pushed her jeans to her knees.

"Bend over," he commanded.

This time in compliance, she sought the far edge of his desk, stretching her obedient body, presenting her panties with pride. Her pastel pink string bikinis matched her stripy top, staying subtle beneath her ultra tight jeans.

"Encourage your leaders to strengthen their teams," he scolded.

His demanding tone rushed down her straight legs, pulsing through her body. She hadn't given a thought beyond her initial team, approving hiring requests but not inviting them.

The unused rattan rested against her pink cotton. Proud to be punished, she offered her bottom to its warm caress.

"Six of the best. Delivered fast, they'll teach a swift, effective lesson."

She welcomed her fierce caning. The cane whistled in his office, pouring delicious fear into her ears. Impacting the center of her cheeks, she rode its fierce heat as it soared. Five seconds behind it seared her skin, high on her bent bottom. Without time to contain her rising pain, it scorched her lower cheeks. Three lines of agony burned top, middle and bottom of her backside. Planting pain, the rattan whipped sincere stripes in between. Bent across his desk, ever-increasing agony stung her backside, her cotton providing feeble protection to her lower cheeks. His sixth stroke stole into the crease of her bottom and thighs, searing fiery pain where her skin couldn't bear it. She panted hard over his desk, begging herself to handle her hurt. His strict punishment had delivered parallel lines of screaming pain, challenging each other to hurt worse.

"Stand up, Kate."

She obeyed, turning to face her boss. "I'm sorry, sir. Thank you for caning me. I deserved it for my lack of forethought."

"Good girl," he said.

He returned the rattan to its cupboard while she tugged up her jeans.

Her rough denim scraped her exposed ridges, sending pleasure into her moist sex. Getting caned in her boss's office had set her sex on its determined path. But after her formal punishment, she must serve an hour facing their wall at home, accepting the separation between formal discipline and natural pleasure. Desperate to get home, her pleading expression met understanding.

Belle left the ninth floor female restroom. A firm scolding, distant in the empty open-plan office, attracted her attention. Following its approximate source, she headed towards her office. Glancing towards Kate's space as she entered her own, movement caught her eye across the corner in Ben's office. Facing away, he held a cane, raised.

Her sex clenched so hard, she crouched as she entered her office, hunched by an extraordinary tension between her legs. Standing in the corner of her office, she blended with her bookcase, peering through their glass office walls.

Kate's gorgeous wedgie jeans stood in humble obedience before her masterful boss. Criticism combined with kind compliments, Belle shuddered as Ben's scolding rocked her observing sex.

She hadn't told her boyfriend discipline turned her on, nor seen an actual spanking. Too embarrassed to tell him she wanted to feel genuine pain, she'd kept her council, fantasies filling her private thoughts.

Apologizing for her keenness to obey, Kate addressed him as 'sir', firing salvoes of sensational obedience into Belle's submissive sex. She watched Kate push down her tight jeans, her heart racing as the girl she respected stood humbled in her pastel pink panties.

Ben's voice drilled 'Bend Over' into her brain. Struggling with the button on her mat black coated skinny jeans, her sex made her unzip herself. Panting in tiny breaths, she slid her fingers into her white cotton thong panties.

Her boss was in clear trouble. Trouble she wished was hers. She rubbed herself hard, stretching her tight jeans, as he sentenced Kate to six of the best. His subtle scolding rammed her finger against her clit.

He promised Kate six fast cane strokes, no leniency. Swift cracks of his cane drove through Belle's wild clit. Soaking her slit, her sex flooded with wet heat, demanding he thrash Kate harder. Her own bottom bent over his desk in her dreams, she imagined the rattan searing her skin. Slipping her spare hand behind her, she cupped her bare, vulnerable cheek, holding her pleasure on her fragile precipice as his cane cracked into Kate's bent backside. The rapid, savage strokes offered no mercy as he punished his co-founder. Kate's obvious willing obedience became her own as the cane's ruthless impacts exploded her dangerous dam. Shuddering on her desperate legs, she seized her sturdy bookcase for support as orgasms cascaded down her legs, freeing her sex for multiple waves of profound pleasure as Kate rose.

Ben's height hid Kate from her view as the girl's humble apology reached her eager ears. His resonant baritone declared 'Good Girl.' Desperate for his praise, she stole it as her own. Flung into her soul, his commendation tensed her sex, flinging waves of fresh orgasms into her drowning body.

Pulling up her sexy skinny jeans, she slid beneath her desk, gentle flutters of sustained pleasure pulsing as the two co-founders walked past. Loving Kate's wedgie jeans, her gaze followed the co-founder's sexy bottom. The confident girl's natural gait gave no clue she wore six fierce cane stripes, punishing her beautiful backside.