Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1995-2009 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
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A Slave of My Own
(****, F/m, Severe, Caning)
Erin continues the game. (Approximately 947 words. Originally published 1998-02.)
A week later I caned the boy.
It seemed only fair. I had no delusions about his motivations, and the last thing I wanted was to encourage him, but I figured the caning would do him some good. Boys his age need regular canings. It seemed his father had left the family several years earlier, and while the boy's mother thought him eminently responsible and the "man of the family," the truth was that he exploited her trust and abused his power every chance he got.
I gave him six of the best that first session, and then masturbated him with my hand until he came. I had him totally naked, which thrilled him, while I remained fully dressed, which did not. But I had no sexual interest in the boy. He was an amusement, that was all. I felt I was educating him.
He came regularly after that. He was completely malable. I had him do my chores around the apartment, scrubbing the toilet and floors, washing dishes, and doing the laundry. That last I only did once, after I caught him masturbating with a pair of my panties. I immediately gave him six for that, with no release, but he was such a miserable boy I relented and twice put him over my lap for some slippering and much needed friction. Before he went home I gave him the caning he'd come for (literally), and then I smeared his sticky come over the weals on his bottom.
The boy adored me. He found my body fascinating, though I never let him see me naked. He said I was a goddess. I was flattered by his attentions, but I refused to have sex with him. "You are here for punishment," I reminded him. "That's all."
"Yes," he breathed. "Punishment."
He was incorrigable. I slippered, paddled, strapped, and caned him, yet he still came back. Each time I promised him that the next time would be worse, and each time he returned.
The pain was dreadful, and I gave him a number of positively unforgetable canings, but apparently the relief at the end was worth every tear.
One night he crawled to me while I sat on the sofa. He was naked, the way he always was in my apartment. "Suck me off," he said boldly. "Suck me with your mouth."
"You are disgusting," I said. "I shall cane you extra for that."
"Give me double," he whispered. "But suck me off."
I stared at him. I'd already given him two slipperings and a paddling, and he knew he had a strapping coming before his good-bye caning. It was tempting to me to see how far I could push him.
"Fifty with the strap," I said softly, "followed by two dozen with the cane. I shall fondle you twice during the strapping and lick you once during the caning. You may pick when."
The boy's eyes grew lustful and dangerously excited. "And then you'll suck me off?"
The boy grinned at me. "I want you naked while you beat me."
"I told you, no sex," I said sternly. The boy shook his head.
"No sex, just you naked. I want to see you naked while you punish me."
A warmth inside me grew as I thought of the boy staring at me. His lust was so raw and obvious it aroused me violently. It would be interesting for me to be naked. He'd never seen me naked, though I'd once traded him six strokes of the cane for him to see me in my bra and panties.
The boy bowed low. "I'm ready for my strapping, mistress."
I kept my part of the bargain, stopping twice during the strapping to revive the boy's limp member, and once during the caning. Throughout the long beatings I was naked, my body glistening with sweat as I worked hard to induce terrible pain into the boy. I knew he enjoyed watching me, seeing my breasts sway as I swung the strap and watching my bottom jiggle as I walked away to get a good run with the cane. Feeling his eyes lust after me was fascinating and arousing. But midway during the caning, as I licked his cock back to life, I realized my own bottom was tingling with dreadful anticipation. I longed to be receiving the thrashing myself, not beating a helpless boy.
After sucking the boy off I left him lying on my bed for a half hour, his body exhausted. When he finally emerged, still naked, his backside a maze of weals and thick welts, I told him to assume to position.
"We still have your normal six," I said firmly.
His cock visibly grew as I spoke. His eyes, blood-red with tears, went wide with terror.
"I-I can't take any more," he moaned, dropping to his knees. "Please."
"You will take it, love," I whispered, kissing him on the forehead. "Do you know why?"
He shook his head.
"Because tonight is the last time. You won't be coming back."
"But why? I thought -- "
I cut him off with my fingers on his lips. "Shhh. You thought nothing. None of this ever happened. You are a boy, you have your life and I have mine. In a few moments I will give you six strokes and you will leave. You will not come back. Is that understood?"
Something in my expression melted the boy and he nodded. Slowly he bent over and grasped his ankles. "Make them memorable," he hissed, his voice rough with emotion.
More to come next week!