« Spanking Stories

Evan hadn't forgotten Chloe. Indeed, he'd obsessed. Rude pleasurable thoughts had filled endless empty nights. Challenging investments had conspired to keep him from Hair Air. The company required marginal input from him. Earlier, an attractive deal had collapsed. Seizing his chance, he'd sifted his pile of potential opportunities. Extracting an uninspiring retail industry investment, he'd requested Ben's opinion. Arriving at Hair Air, he hoped Chloe would be present. A brief glimpse might sustain him.

Her gentle nature had overtaken his interest in Nail Air's color choices. The Imagination Lab had proved impressive, yet unsurprising. Ben had proven his smarts. Chloe's presence had provided an enchanting surprise. She'd broadcast undeniable sexiness, her casual movements suggesting she was unaware of her beauty. Watching her ripe bottom shift in her tight black pants, he'd itched to spank it, hard.

He'd solved his crisis of conscience, focusing on looking after her instead of fantasizing about her naked. Absent telltale panty lines suggested she wore string panties beneath her tight pants. He'd brought her drinks to keep her seated, averting disproportionate focus on her beautiful bottom. Her long blonde locks instead delighted him, flicking around her face as she spoke. Beautiful women surrounded Ben. How he kept them under control, or himself, could only be Kate. She'd stood beside Ben from the start. He'd often replayed Kate's two feisty offers to bend over his desk, re-scripting their outcome. A brilliant graphic designer, she'd promised to bend over his desk for a bona fide spanking if her website words didn't crush his. They had. Sashaying her sexiness into his office, she'd demanded Hair Air's outrageous initial investment, promising again to bend if he didn't invest. He'd picked valuable billions over her unattainable bottom.

Chloe had ousted his Kate fantasies, genuine hope replacing hopeless impossibility. Red, purple, and cream stripes still hugged Chloe's firm breasts in his visions. Her sublime curves cut through her surroundings, leaving her the sole focus. She broadcast exquisite shyness, her natural movements intoxicating. Carrying her corporate responsibility with stunning confidence, she may not have realized she screamed sexiness. Her graceful body promised potent upside potential. Her perfect bottom required frequent spanking. His last conclusion remained unproven.

Approaching the Hair Air CEO's outer office, beautiful women abounded, sporting silky, sophisticated hair, all walking billboards promoting Hair Air. Seeing Ben's assistant speaking on her phone, he took advantage. Sweeping his gaze around the glass-walled outer office, he halted on Chloe's blonde tresses. Her gaze rose, meeting his. He released his held breath. Expanding biceps filling out his navy pinstriped sleeves. She smiled. It contained genuine interest, curiosity, and welcome. Captured by her quintessential perfection, he may have painted his desires on her expression, but it felt wonderful. Her bright red blouse swept over her firm breasts. Unable to see her outfit below her desk, he returned her confident smile, certain she wouldn't disappoint. Ben found him before his focus became obvious. Corralled into the CEO's office, he lost his breathtaking view. The irrelevant investment proposal stole forty meaningless minutes, Chloe hidden behind him.

Chloe glanced at Evan's rear view, only his solid shoulders visible. She'd dreamed about him. Often. Her fantasy repertoire involved solid desks, his stern voice, her strict obedience, and very significant pain. He treated her hard, demanding her best, punishing her worst. Explosive pleasure had pervaded her best date fantasy. She'd spilled her drink, drawing his rebuke. Her clumsy mistake had earned her his convenient cane. Punished before other diners, she'd received humiliating but necessary stripes across her bared backside. Returned to her seat, she'd endured suitable suffering, receiving frequent glances from curious couples.

She smoothed her skirt, her palms damp. Beneath her rich red blouse, her navy pinstripe fluted miniskirt oozed its powerful presence. It meant nothing. She wasn't dating. A full-blown billionaire, Evan was outside her league. She hadn't expected he'd appear today. He wasn't a frequent visitor. Glancing up, he'd stood twenty feet from her, radiating ruthless power. Dampening panties added to her palms. Standing, brisk strides carried her to the restroom. Checking their well-appointed cubicles were unoccupied, she slid into the last.

Sitting on the warm wooden seat, she spread her legs. Buttoned high on her waist, her sexy skirt flared from her hips. She flicked up its flare, sliding her fingers into her bright red bikini panties. Matching her red lacy bra, their super sleek tightness held her needy sex. Swift swirls shifted her into middle gear. Tighter circles drove her clit ram-rod hard.

His threatening presence in pinstripes promising uncompromising pain, endowing her with pleasure. He ordered her to bend across her office desk. Obeying him trapped her between breathtaking beauty, stupendous suffering, and handsome humiliation. He ignored her co-workers, making her do as she was told.

Borrowing Ben's cane, he flicked her skirt up, revealing her bright red cotton panties. Glancing down at her bikini panties destabilized her. Staring at the stall's wooden walls prevented her premature explosion.

She bent lower, pushing her precocious cheeks out. Highlighted in bright red, they begged for his cane. She'd sassed him. It didn't matter how. He wasn't accepting her attitude. He struck her bottom hard; the powerful rattan, reducing her to instant compliance. Her co-workers watched her getting punished. Severe strokes stung wretched fury into her exposed cheeks. He delivered pure punitive punishment, intended to correct, not motivate. Punished in public, it provided harsh censure.

Humbled in her shared shame, she stared straight ahead, keeping her arms on the desk. Not impeding her pain, she showed him sincere contrition. His consequential cane cured her stinking attitude. Forced to apologize, she thanked him in front of everyone. Thanking a tough man for giving her an agonizing public beating broke her sustained composure. Shaky spasms brought wondrous relief, flooding her in serenity. Relaxing, she applauded her decision to masturbate. Permitting her terrible naughtiness, she'd regained crucial calm. Settling her skirt, she stood, satisfied she wouldn't embarrass herself by swooning. She'd parked him. Flushing in case she wasn't alone, she exited the restroom for her desk.

Thanking Ben, Evan missed seeing Chloe's bottom half. Gone from her desk, her escape felt personal. Slighted, he headed towards the elevators, disappointment reigning. He called the car, pervading sadness permeating the wide white corridor. Sweet movement ripped his attention sideways. Beyond the elevator, sexiness sashayed into sight. Beautiful bare thighs slid into a blue pinstripe miniskirt, its fluted hem flaring around her dazzling legs. Chloe.

Approaching, she paused. "Hi, Evan."

Her beaming smile illuminated the bright corridor. Her soothing voice caressed his ears. Reality exploded every fantasy. He held his nerve. "Hi Chloe."

Her heart leaped. He remembered her name. Amazing.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Fine, thank you. We've made our final color choices for Nail Air."

"It was an impressive process," he said. "I enjoyed sharing it with you, Chloe." He waved his arm. "Aisling Wine Bar is two blocks south. Wonderful wine only improves its cozy ambience. May I invite you for a drink tonight?" Rule number one. Ask for the deal.

Her mouth fell open, providing no natural response. Her wild dreams hadn't required vocal feedback. Reality did. She hadn't practiced possible replies. She hadn't imagined he liked her.

He said, "If I'm out of line, turn me down."

"God no," she said. Realizing she sounded silly, she added, "I mean, yes please, I'd love it."

"6pm," he said, smiling. "We'll meet there."

Appreciating his discretion, she nodded, confirming the time.

Entering the waiting elevator car, he kept smiling at her.

Her last hour disappeared among dedication, closing tasks, hiding her smile. He liked her. Maybe he just liked wine. No. He'd asked her. Definitive. Declarative. Delicious.

She walked two blocks south, entering Aisling Wine Bar ten minutes late. Polite, excusable, and conveying no promise, her arrival pleased her. He pleased her. Perched on a high polished wooden stool, his outstretched leg established clear dominance over his environment. Gold glass lamps hung above matching central couches. Arranged in an extensive U-shape, the enclosed sanctuary commanded the cozy convivial space. High tables with their stools lined the discreet edges. Backlit wine glasses hung behind the glossy dark wood rear bar. Attached to Chef Aisling's celebrated seafood restaurant, the cozy wine bar was less buttoned up.

"White or red wine, Chloe?"

Hung on his powerful use of her name. Her brain caught up. "White, please."

"Would Chablis suit?"

She nodded. Wandering towards the bar, he ordered their wine. She seated herself, crossing her legs. Her super sexy skirt required it. Thrilled by her outfit, she couldn't imagine a better choice.

He returned, bottle in hand, eyes glued to her legs. She smiled, noting his wine choice. While he poured, she scanned the exclusive wine menu. He'd chosen a mid-menu bottle showing class billions couldn't buy. She glanced around the elegant living-room space, sipping her cool wine. Perfect temperature. Exquisite taste. She wasn't a wine connoisseur. She liked it. Watching another smart couple sink into the couches, she spun towards him, feeling comfortable.

Watching her sip the white wine was pure pleasure. If nothing else followed, his entire memory of her bright lips embracing the glass would fill his mental reservoir. "Outside Hair Air, what excites you, Chloe?"

Damn. Her sex throbbed. He'd wrapped his tongue around her name, plunging it between her legs. Heat responded. She crossed them tighter, savoring the subtle sensations. They discussed her home life. She told him about bringing up her brother. Thoughtful questions sparked eloquent responses. She'd never felt more beautiful. He ordered skewered short ribs soaked in Argentine red-wine. The shared small plate added a sweet taste to their relaxed conversation.

Shifting their conversation, she enquired about his other investments. Her questions flowed into personal interests. She learned he lived above the Blaze hotel downtown, receiving flawless room service with sensational river views. Linked by the river, their disparate worlds felt aligned. She shifted her fingers further across the table.

Reaching forward, he touched her hand, her soft, sensual skin stealing his fingertips. She didn't pull back. Resting his full fingers, he met her gaze. Lusting after impossibility was pointless. He wanted everything or nothing. "Chloe, I like you."

She softened, his frankness attractive. "Asking me out clued me in."

"But I'd rather not waste our emotional investment if we aren't bedroom compatible."

Her brain processed his blunt statement, studying him. His determined expression conveyed his desire for directness, garnering her respect. "What are you asking?"

"I love taking charge," he said.

Her sex flinched, his words lethal to her. It wasn't surprising. It fitted him. Pulse beating in her ears, she said, "Tell me more."

"You're sure?" he said.

"I'm not shocked." Her sex was. Magnificent shock. It was handling his wonderful words. Nobody had taken charge of her since her parents had passed. She said. "I imagine our conversation may prove awkward if our desires don't align. I won't tattle. If I did, I'd expect consequences."

He swallowed her thoughtful words, positive pressure making his suit pants uncomfortable. Her eyes hinted at her deeper meaning. He said, "I love disciplining girls. Hard, proper punishments which hurt for some time. I'd spank, strap, paddle, and cane you." He paused. "With your consent, of course."

Stilling her sprouting smile, she refused her sex's vibrant demands to fling herself into his arms. "What if I don't consent? Would you still punish me?"

Struck by her complex challenge, he struggled to respond. His body screamed 'Hell, yes'. His mind ordered common sense.

Breaking their deadlock, she grinned. "We're bedroom compatible." Ridiculous relief flooded her, spreading irrational comfort.

He lifted her delicate hand, wrapping it inside his. "Prove it."