Curled up on the white leather couch in Riccardo's hotel suite, Nicole gazed out the window over the city, bathed in afternoon sunshine, and berated herself for her lack of courage. Museums were not a good place to ask a man to spank you, neither were restaurants. The former was too quiet, the latter too busy. A hotel suite wasn't ideal either, it turned out. There was too much space and opportunity to procrastinate.

She thought of herself as a brave girl. Punished with the gym shoe and paddle, she took her painful discipline with dignity. Each week she bared her soul and her panties to her best friend, but she couldn't ask Riccardo if he would discipline her.

Over the last few days, he'd breathed color and life into the pieces of her dream. Tomorrow was Monday, and he was leaving. If she let her dream slip away, she'd wear the blackest black panties on Monday. It still wouldn't come close to the punishment she'd deserve if she missed this opportunity.

The time to have courage was now, not Monday. She crossed her legs, her skinny 721 Levi's stretching over her sexy curves. He'd explored every inch of them. She'd done everything except sleep with him. For the tantalizing nights spent nights in his arms, she owed him honesty, however hard it was.

Coming out of the bathroom, he dropped onto the couch beside her in comfortable black sweatpants and a tight matching tee. She'd driven herself mad, exploring every inch of his solid chest, denying him the ultimate gift of herself.

He put his warm hand on her bare arm. Her nipples hardened at his authoritative touch. She leaned into him, her soft white tee tightening over her breasts.

“I want a future with you, Nicole. Our time here is running out.”

She appreciated his directness. If only she could rise to it. Every time she'd tried, she'd retreated. She only wanted him if he could give her everything. Her most threatening black panties in mind, she whispered, “You said I have good manners.”

“You do. Impeccable.”

“At our first lunch, you said you'd pick me up on my failings.”

“If it mattered, I would do so in private.”

“What if I had a serious lapse in behavior and caused an outrageous argument?”

Easing her from his shoulder, he turned and cushioned her face between his hands, his tender touch cradling her cheeks. His voice gentle, he said, “I've been wondering how to say this for several days. There'll be times in our relationship when we argue. You're strong-willed and independent. I love that about you. But when you let yourself down, I'll instruct you to bend over and I'll punish you. It will hurt and you'll be sore for a while, but I'll expect your obedience. I'll forgive you and there'll be no lingering guilt for either of us.”

She broke free of his hands. In all the worlds she'd imagined, in all the times she'd almost begun this conversation, she'd never imagined he'd ask her.

His heart plummeted. This was why he hadn't raised it. He'd feared this reaction. But it was better to end things now than let them get any more painful for them both.

“You'd paddle me?” she exclaimed.

“I wouldn't hesitate, if you deserved it. But I'd more likely cane you.”

“I'm sorry, Riccardo.”

He steeled himself to walk away. He'd had the highest of hopes for them, but he wouldn't tolerate a girl who didn't accept the discipline she deserved.

“I've been less than perfect company over the past few days,” she said.

He looked at her in surprise.

“I've been trying to tell you. The thing is, I'm used to regular punishment and couldn't live without it. It makes me a better girl.”

He looked at her, amazed. “You want me to?”

“I got the paddle the night before you sat across from me complimenting my manners. My bum was aching like hell. Punishment makes me graceful and well-mannered. It's natural.”

“Who dealt with you?”

“It's a very kind friend. He deals with me and Alexa too. We're paddled for anything we know deserves it or just spanked each week to keep us in line.”

“You're both lovely girls, but you're the loveliest. I can't believe I've been worrying about this.”

“I can. We've both been dancing around the same problem.”

He smiled and pulled her into him. “You are full of surprises.”

“Are you going to punish me?” she asked, her voice muffled by his firm chest.

“By your own admission, you were not a perfect guide. Your mind was on other matters.”

She sprung up from the couch, bounced on her bare feet, and turned to face him. “I was worse than useless. I let my worries consume me. You must order me down to my panties and lay it on hard. I need to know that when you say you'll punish me, you will thrash the living daylights out of me, if I deserve it. I don't want to have any doubts during the months before I can leave and join you in Italy.”

He smiled at her. “Show me one more place, a sex shop where I might buy a paddle or a cane.”

In the end, she'd found three shops on her phone, sent him all the addresses, and he'd taken a taxi alone.

She hugged herself on the couch, reveling in the knowledge her man cared enough to be out in a strange city finding an instrument to punish her. After a while, she called down to room service for champagne. Positioning the ice bucket and glasses on a small table by the window, her mind was empty. He was going to thrash her for her procrastination and he was perfect.

When she heard the clunk of the door mechanism, she got up, leaving behind the glossy interiors magazine she'd been flicking through while she considered how much she deserved the punishment which was coming.

He'd swapped his sweatpants for tight black jeans before going out. He looked good in them and he hadn't returned empty-handed. In his hand was a long, thin cardboard package, wide enough to be a paddle and long enough to be a cane.

Smiling at her, he said, “The first store on your list had everything.”

Undoing the wire, she twisted off the champagne cork, poured them each a glass, and handed him one.

“Show me,” she said, gesturing towards the package he'd dropped on the couch.

Taking a sip first, he put down his champagne, levered his fingers under the parcel tape, and ripped it off. Unfolding the cardboard cover, he revealed four feet of golden rattan. The thin cane had a crooked handle, the traditional style taking up most of the width of the package. Her sex clenched. She was about to get caned for the first time ever.

He picked it up and handed it to her. She gripped the flexible length, fingering the smooth surface and small ridges. Steeped in respect, she handed it to him.

He took his champagne to the couch, moving the packaging to the floor. She joined him.

“Do you have any doubts?” he asked.

“No. I've procrastinated all week. Don't let me off.”

“I won't. We'll finish our champagne and then there'll be no more indecision.”

They exchanged quiet smiles as thoughts of what was about to happen plunged each of them into silence. When she put her empty glass down beside the couch, he stood, adopted a tough tone, and said, “Stand up.”

She obeyed, facing him, her hands by her sides.

“You're a confident, powerful girl, but you wasted days floundering in hesitation and indecision.”

Her sex heated at his hard tone. “I did, and I'm sorry. It's not what I expect of myself.” The prospect of pain should have made her fearful, but delicious pleasure swamped her as he held her to account.

He picked up the cane and flexed it between his hands. “I'm going to give you six strokes. They will be hard punishing strokes intended to hurt.”

She deserved them. She must pay for her hesitance. “Thank you,” she said.

He moved and stood beside the small desk. Tapping the cane on the polished wood surface, he said, “Come here.”

Obeying in silence, she moved and faced the desk.

“Drop your jeans.”

She'd been in her panties with him often enough in the past few days, but being ordered to strip down to them was different. Unbuttoning her jeans, she bent and pushed them right down. Rising, she stood ashamed in her white cotton bikini panties.

His gaze lowered to linger on her innocent panties and her sex pulsed hot liquid pleasure.

“Appropriate,” he nodded.

Delighted to have pleased him with her natural choice, she stood taller.

“Bend over,” he commanded.

She bent down over the table and presented her tight white panties for punishment. She'd wanted to be here all week. Now she was, she owed him her respect and she would give it, no matter how much it hurt.

“This needs to hurt. You squandered time, time we could have spent getting to know each other on a much more intimate level.”

He was right. She'd frittered the week away with her doubt and concerns. She needed caning.

“It's a good job, we've got the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

She smiled. At the same instant, she felt the cane tap her in warning. She spread her fingers and pressed her forearms into the table, unsure how much the cane would hurt, but sure she deserved it.

The cane bit deep into her panty-clad cheeks. For a moment there was no pain, then searing agony soared as a thin line of savage fire burned deep into her backside. She rammed her teeth together and hissed as the pain escalated. She worked her arms into the table and forced her feet to stay in place while the intense heat sharpened and peaked. Her breathing steadied and calmed as she got used to the fresh pain.

She got her breathing under control. As the heat leveled out, the pain stabilized. She turned her head and said, “Wow. That's unbelievable.”

“Five more to go. I expect you to take each of them with the same grace.”

She stiffened her resolve at his subtle compliment and made a solemn vow to herself to obey him no matter what.

The cane rested against her bottom again. This time she knew what to expect. She heard the sharp whistle as the rattan rod cut through the air and scorched her cheeks. Ready for the sharp escalation, she absorbed the pain as it bit into her bottom. Taking it to heart, she thought of each time she'd almost asked him. The strokes fell as she admonished herself. The final one seared a hard mark right between her bottom and thighs. She cried out in agony and stamped her feet.

When she'd settled, he leaned down beside her and whispered in her ear, “You're a good girl. Well done.”

She was. But he was a good man. He could have introduced her to the cane with light strokes, giving her a false sense of her future. Instead, he'd caned her hard, forcing her to face herself and take the intense pain she deserved. She'd taken her punishment with dignity and self-respect, a girl-code girl to her very core.

The last stroke was still delivering its stinging verdict as she rose. The pain from her weals intensified as she moved. He rose beside her, enveloping her in his arms. She stayed held, letting her punishment continue to do its work as she enjoyed the rich safety of his arms. After a few moments, she said, “I trust you.”

“I trust you too. Please come to Italy and be with me.”

His words reverberated in his chest and reached her ears. Safe in his arms, she closed her eyes and smiled. “I'm already there.”

Alice North writes romantic discipline novels - AliceNorth.com