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Diane slammed her butt into her train seat for the one-hour ride home. Waking at 5am in southern humidity, she'd returned her aircraft to base. It had already departed, carrying lunchtime passengers coast-to-coast. She was heading home from four packed days of flying sectors.

Slipping her airpods into her ears, she swept aside her brunette hair. Scrolling her news feed, she paused, recognizing the man before she read the headline. Doug Diamond. Her ultimate boss. Tapping the video, she watched his rugged expression impart passion towards the network TV anchor. His words spilled towards her. Discussing his plans for international expansion, he revealed Diamond Cross Air had bought four long-range Airbus aircraft, and ordered twenty more, their fuel efficiency attractive. He downplayed pilot training as a necessary expense.

Her pulse rate tripled. Become captain on her Boeing 737, or train on huge Airbus aircraft, delaying her rise to captain, but performing exciting long-haul missions to glamorous destinations. Thoughts besieged her, carrying pros and cons. Holding her surging excitement, she listened while Doug promoted their usual brand of fair price, decent service, describing flying Diamond Cross Air long distance to Sydney, Australia. Already in negotiations with their government, a glint in his eye conveyed tremendous confidence. Trailing his intentions would disrupt their competitors, driving prices down. She admired his nerve. He held no fear, batting for the fences.

Non-stop flights to Sydney would involve double flight crews. Extra opportunity. Despite demanding hours, pilots would fight for the gig. She stopped the video, examining her dreams. Adventure beckoned. Responsibility felt greater over large oceans. Positive dreams filled her commute home. Despite her desire for control, responsibility, and fresh adventure, she remained committed to Diamond Cross Air. The company had trusted her, giving her everything. Exiting her carriage, a huge ad opposite read 'Leap'. It was selling sneakers, its positivity wasted on her. She'd already decided she'd apply for the Airbus training. She had nothing to lose.

At home, she stripped off her uniform, showering in her beautiful ensuite overlooking the courtyard below. Half days confused her body. She wasn't ready to rest. Changing into jeans, she tucked in her tight blue tee. Yesterday, she'd called Kate between flights. Hair Air kept her friend busy, but Kate's striking apartment was overdue for inspection. She'd read last month's jealous news article. Diamond Cross Air Public Relations had coached her after landing her stricken passenger jet with only barista training. She ignored most news headlines. Her friend had ignored Page Eight. The stupid article had already disappeared beneath swathes of newer, over-sensationalized garbage.

Walking distance separated their city abodes. Letting her fresh brunette waves fly free, she wandered the sidewalks, soaking in city noise. Kate's bustling street appeared normal until you looked up. Super skyscrapers shot miles into the sky, containing apartments only billionaires could afford. Park Tower opened its doors on her arrival. Inside, four suited doormen stood ready to direct her. The nearest called Kate. Authorized, he escorted her to an elevator, sending it to only Kate's floor.

Emerging into the apartment foyer, her ears popped. White Macaubas stone spread beneath her navy sneakers. She'd known to expect opulence. The building exuded it. But her friend's home eclipsed her expectations, shooting luxury beyond her orbit. Covering her shock, she registered Kate. Her friend stood leaning against her towering marble wall. Recovering, she threw her a grin. "Hey, babe. Higher than your last home."

Kate grinned. She'd feared her friend's reaction. Financial distance could harm their longstanding friendship. She wouldn't give up her success or their friendship. Her lopsided grin showed her gratitude. She shrugged.   Uninvited, Diane explored, assuaging her curiosity. The gargantuan dining table could accommodate all their friends. Extensive cream couches could contain considerable conversation. Kate's sumptuous bedroom befit its lofty location, its nearby corridor dividing a magnificent walk-in closet and incomparable ensuite. The comfortable corner library lounge felt intimate. Her mental measurements sized up the three spare bedrooms, declaring their park views fit for her occasional occupation. The last bedroom, a home office, offered views over park and city. Its free-standing gray-streaked wood desk stretched its entire length. Her brain bent her over its magnitude, gripping its sides, her bottom bared. Her gullible sex seized her, cultivating smoldering desire. She turned away, calming her crazy imagination.

Returning to the grand salon, she re-encountered the soft curved couches. Their accompanying armchairs blended into the white leather landscape. Kate sat in one. She stretched herself along a nearby couch, shifting her legs to access the unlimited city view. Her friend deserved this ridiculous luxury. It suited her. They'd all helped. She'd created Hair Air's iconic brand name. Unintended in her natural reaction, she'd first uttered the globe conquering words. Ben credited her, often. His invention was pure genius. Kate had led the company, giving it birth amid complex legal pressures. She grinned at her friend. "My place beats yours. It's free."

"I'm glad you're living with Tamsin," Kate said. "The city deserves both of you."

Diane savored the compliment. She and Tamsin had crossed oceans, flown deserts, and soared above their flight school peers. "I miss flying with her. I miss our adventure. The scheduling department shuffles us like game pieces."

"You dislike airline flying?"

"I love flying. Bureaucracy is boring. In Australia I commanded our operation. I didn't realize I loved being in charge, choosing our fate."

Smiling, Kate said, "I get that."

Diane examined herself. High above the city, anything felt possible. Putting aside her personal concerns, she said, "This apartment suits you, Kate. You deserve it."

"Oh, you think so? I worry I've changed."

"You haven't."

Kate seized the hard declaration, testing it. She wanted to believe. Page Eight hadn't helped. Ignoring its criticism hadn't stopped its poisonous tentacles contaminating her thoughts. She'd wandered her wide corridors, feeling unworthy of their substantial proportions. Desperate to trust in Diane's declaration, she craved proof. "I once gave you a hard caning for poor friendship during flight school."

"I remember. It did me no harm." Her friend had caned her, allowing her to compare the cane to her paddle, her lax friendship efforts providing their convenient reason. Actual pain thrashed into her taut panties had proven her friend cared.

Kate smiled. "It hurt you."

"Good hurt. I knew you cared. You weren't afraid to command respect."

"Am I the same person?"

"Yes."

Kate swept her arm, encompassing her billionaire's view. "How can I know?"

"You deserve this, Kate."

"Logic agrees with you. Emotion isn't sure. Show me I'm not above everything."

Diane rolled, stealing her friend's gaze. Realization had dawned. "You've done nothing."

"Making my pain harder to take. Prove you don't think our friendship has changed."

Diane hardened her expression. Love didn't diminish the firmness she must show her friend. Massive angst poured at her, demanding destruction. "Don't question our friendship. Fetch your cane, girl."

Kate rose, comforted. Despite their location, her friend hadn't hesitated to criticized her, ordering her obedience. Heading to her bedroom, heady reassurance enveloped her. Withdrawing her whippy regular cane from its closet, she returned. Diane stood by the piano, expecting her. Presenting her cane brought splendid surrender. She'd gifted her friend the means to punish her. Balanced in Diane's hands, the golden rattan offered tantalizing hope.

Diane stroked the smooth rattan, enjoying its slight curve and flexible strength. "You gave me my first taste of the cane. Thanks to you, I resolved a friendship crisis with Tamsin. I owe you."

Kate smiled. "I'm glad. I need you now."

"You have me, Kate." Diane led her friend towards the home office she'd admired earlier. "Your new desk looks perfect." She entered the office, standing aside.

Kate followed, approaching the desk end. The park view lay beyond its long, empty surface. She stood still, waiting.

Diane admired Kate's attitude. Her friend had asked for her help, falling straight into line. She wouldn't fail her. Discovering both their boyfriends punished them, they'd discussed the paddle versus the cane. Remiss in their friendship, she'd accepted Kate's hard caning. Testing the cane's pliability, she bent it almost in half. "Don't question our friendship again, Kate. Six strokes. Drop your jeans."

Kate glanced down. She'd chosen tight skinny jeans, light blue. Had she expected a caning, she'd have worn leggings. Unbuttoning her sleek denim, she eased their tightness over her hips. People who didn't value discipline could never imagine the meekness induced by undressing on command. Pushing her jeans to her ankles, she stood, facing her friend in skimpy pastel pink string bikini panties, casting a shy glance, searching for approval.

Diane locked eyes, keeping command of her friend. "Pretty panties."

Reminded of her status, Kate shivered. "Thank you."

Raising the cane, Diane tapped the desk end. "Bend over."

Kate approached the gray-streaked contemporary wooden desk. Sliding her palms forward over its smooth surface, she lowered herself onto it. Separating her arms, she gripped its edges. Stretched over its surface, her bent bottom, exposed in skimpy pastel pink cotton, proved her utter compliance.

Diane positioned herself. Flexing her arm, she placed the golden rattan rod against her friend's tight pink cotton. She believed in their friendship. Proving it required no effort. "Our friendship means more than wealth, Kate. You don't have to choose."

Kate swallowed. Gentle taps solidified her scolding, criticizing her self-doubt. The cane's indisputable presence readied her for the devastating pain she needed to feel. Cream carpet deadened the intense crack. It didn't deaden the scalding heat. Unfelt for one full second, it soared behind the furious rattan's retreat. She panted. Her heart offered cogent thanks for the single stroke. She hadn't realized her need until chatting. Fire stole deeper, demanding her participation. She gave it. Lost among wealth, she'd felt detached from reality. She'd needed her oldest friend to make her bend. Excruciating sting cut into her cotton-covered bottom, proving she wasn't in control. She clenched her teeth, wrestling with her pain. A small cry escaped, taking with it incredible stress. She let it grow.

Diane smiled. Their sweet intimacy echoed in her heart. Compassion flowed into concrete certainty. She said, "You haven't changed, Kate."

Straining beneath her pain burden, Kate whispered, "Thank you." The harsh rattan cut through her concerns, slicing into her tight cotton. Vicious heat proved their friendship, sizzling the bare skin beneath her thin panties. Internalizing her wild burn, she sought respectful silence. She wasn't above receiving a sound spanking from her friend.

The kind cane struck hard. Brutal fire sank deep into her bottom, below her skimpy panties. Burning bare skin delivered awesome agony. Flexing its full force, the cane bit into her sensitive bottom. She worshiped its brutal honesty. Undisguised, she wallowed in her agony, allowing her friend to see her suffering.

"Last stroke," Diane said. Five darkening welts shone clear beneath pale pink cotton. Stretched tight, the almost transparent material exposed painful proof of their friendship. She bent her knees, positioning the cane with care.

Kate tightened her grip, expecting the worst. Hissing fury honored her expectations. Fire slashed into her behind. She yelled, releasing her remaining stress. Merciless heat sliced a devastating diagonal across her five stripes, renewing each, forcing her gripping knuckles to turn white. She panted, her admiration exploding. A sixth hard stroke would have sufficed. Diane's punishing diagonal proved their friendship worthy.

"It's over, babe," Diane said, reestablishing their equality.

Kate stood. Her sharp diagonal contracted. Turning, she cringed.

Diane smiled. "Don't doubt yourself, or us."

"I promise," Kate whispered. She reached her for friend, wrapping her into a tight hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Diane whispered.

Kate stood free, stepping back. Reduced to her pastel pink panties and punished, her exposed state blended into the brutal heat ruling her backside. Devastating capitulation ravaged her proud sex. It clenched tight, shuddering. Her legs almost collapsed. She plunged her hand into her tight pink panties, unable to hide from herself or her friend. Her head flung back, hailing her finger. Her proud clit delivered perfection. Unable to avoid her need, she lowered her head, meeting Diane's gaze. "You just caned me. Don't hide from me. It's okay."

Heavy need thrust through Diane. She'd enjoyed caning Kate. Embarrassed to be seen masturbating, it felt like a punishment she deserved. She undid her jeans. Enjoying Kate's soft cries, she needed to atone. Shoving her jeans down, she kicked them off. In pale blue bikini panties, she borrowed her friend's powerful desk chair.

Breathing ragged, Kate shuffled to the corner cream chair, sinking into comfort, its fabric brushing her fresh welts. Freeing her ankles, she spread her legs. "You caned me."

Leaning back, Diane swiveled her chair to better see Kate, her fingers sliding down her sticky slit. "You needed it, Kate."

"Yes," Kate shouted, her pleasure screaming her skyward, her legs spread in desperate abandon.

Diane panted. "I gave you a brutal last stroke."

"You let me have it." Kate lost herself in her pleasure, the fearsome stripe throbbing across both her cheeks, its compatriots rioting to maximize her pain.

Diane watched her friend in total abandon. She teased her hard clit, delivering sharp pleasure bursts. Taming herself, she focused on Kate's criticism. 'Don't hide from me' spun around her brain, driving her finger in tight circles. Her friend had ordered her to strip. Made her masturbate. Penance. Her pleasure stiffened. She balanced herself on her peak, her light touch maintaining her position. Flinging her legs onto the desk, she spread them, allowing her friend to see her obeying.

Pleasure ravaged Kate. She'd bent before her friend. Friendship proof raged across her beaten bottom. Seeing Diane pleasuring herself too, powered her solid finger.

Forced to masturbate, Diane smothered herself in deserved ignominy. Standing over Kate, caning her, she'd extracted glorious power. Her friend had needed spanking, but she needed punishing for her secret satisfaction. Bliss suspended her in silence, her ragged breathing stopping altogether. Embracing her incredible humiliation, she slid down the slope offered, plunging beneath a tsunami of pleasure. Her legs shook, revealing her orgasms. Sheer abandon consumed her, declaring her shameful sanction fitting. Settling into calm, she didn't hide herself. Remaining with her legs spread on the desk, admiring her friend.

Kate lost control. Taken to task, caned, standing in her panties she'd masturbated, unable to avoid it. Sharing intimate pleasure with her friend proved their undeniable loyalty. Blasts of deserved agony besieged her balanced bliss, refusing to keep her in exquisite harmony. Crashing waves of commitment flung her down in her chair, stripping her tension. Surges of stunning pain mixed into outrageous joy. Crumbling into calmness, she slowed her finger, settling.

Diane said, "You made me masturbate."

"It's fantastic for you, babe."

"I deserved to share your embarrassment. I enjoyed caning you," Diane said.

Kate grinned. "You're a genuine friend. You were brutal. That last stoke will keep me sore."

Diane laughed. Their wonderful openness broke all barriers. She said, "Wealth hasn't hurt you, Kate."