Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

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(***, M/F, Intense, cons paddling, whipping)

A woman goes to work after a strenuous 'session' with her husband and finds it difficult to concentrate. (Approximately 1,501 words. Originally published 1996-04.)

"Do you think she's pregnant?" hissed Nancy Walker to Dorothy Perez as they watched the pretty legal secretary glide down the corridor to her cubicle. "Don't they say pregnancy brings out the color in your face?"

Dorothy shook her head with all the authority of her forty-seven years. "She's not pregnant. She may be grinning like she just shat the Hope diamond but she's not pregnant."

"Maybe she's sleeping with the Man," whispered a new voice, this one belonging to a tall redhead named Lucy Owens. There were gasps of disbelief from the other secretaries.

"She couldn't!"

"She wouldn't!"

Nancy sighed. "I thought she was happily married, anyway. Isn't her husband that handsome M.D. over at the Mayton Clinic?"

"Ha! Marriage," growled Dorothy, opening her purse for a second Milky Way. "Marriage and happiness are direct opposites. I should know. I've been married three times."

"We know, Dorth," said Lucy, a bit sharply. She kept going to gloss over her rudeness. "It is true that often what seems like the happiest marriages are really the worst."

Nancy sighed wistfully. "It's so sad. They seemed so happy."

"The man's probably got his hand up every nurse in the clinic," said Dorothy without an ounce of compassion as she swallowed the last of her candy bar. "Men are pigs."

"Here, here," said Lucy.

"Ah," sighed Nancy sadly. She wished sincerely that Sherry Miller was pregnant, not having an affair with her boss.

* * * * *

Sherry squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. She blushed deeply at her action and glanced about hoping no one had noticed. The office was suspicious enough already. No sense feeding the fire.

She knew the girls thought something was up. But Sherry could not help but glow this morning. Ryan had not been exactly gentle with her last night, and this morning's "refresher" had certainly come as a delightful if not strenuous surprise. She still could not believe how exciting their new game made their sex life.

"Game my ass!" she giggled to herself. Then she giggled again. It certainly was her ass!

For the past two weeks she and Ryan had been experimenting with erotic spanking. At first she hadn't been wild about the idea, though the concept of being a naughty nurse appealed to the secret sinful side of her. Ryan had called her into his "office" to discuss her recent "misbehavior"--misfiling some drugs and being rude to a patient--and soon she found herself bottom up across the doctor's lap, his palm warming her in more ways than one.

Their lovemaking after that first session had been the best ever. Ryan seemed to come alive while spanking his wife, caressing her naked bottom and slapping the flesh until it was red and sore. Sherry, for her part, was shocked to discover she enjoyed his painful punishment. There was something invigorating about the spanking that aroused her fiercely, and pain only increased the sensation. They'd quickly moved from the bare hand to a wooden hairbrush, and then to a paddle, and last night for the first time, to a leather belt.

Ryan had really given it to her last night. Sherry almost orgasmed just at the memory. Ryan had ordered her upstairs to "prepare herself." This meant she'd had to walk up the stairs and the long corridor by herself, clear in the knowledge that every step took her closer to pain, and take off all her clothes and wait naked in the corner.

An hour of intense sweating and worry later he showed up, casual and disinterested. Over his lap she went, eager now to get the spanking over with. In just minutes his hand had imparted flame to her rump and she regretted her impulsiveness and wished desperately she was back in the corner waiting.

After a long hand spanking that thorough hurt and warmed her bottom, Ryan brought out the paddle. She knew this paddle and though it made her nervous, she was confident she could take it. She gritted her teeth and wiggled like a fish as he swatted her behind soundly.

She was surprised when he stopped. It hadn't been that bad at all. Usually he kept going until she was about to scream and tell him to "stop it!" But then she saw he was going to the closet and removing a long leather belt from a hanger.

"Ryan, please!" she gasped, but he didn't even smile.

"Turn over," he said.

Without knowing why she obeyed, kneeling at the foot of the bed, her breasts pushing into the covers, her naked ass thrust behind her. The belt came down fast then, each stroke lighting a fire that brought tears to her eyes. Many of the lashes fell across the backs of her thighs, and even now Sherry fidgeted as her thighs burned against the chair.

Fighting to remain calm, Sherry stood and took a file down to Mr. Kravitz's office. It wasn't important at all, and certainly didn't have to be done right then, but Sherry was desperate for any excuse to not remain sitting today. As she got back to her chair she felt like running away.

"My poor bottom!" she thought. Blushing, she looked around, hoping no one was noticing her difficulty. Could she sit without wincing?

After the whipping last night she and Ryan had made love three whole times before collapsing from exhaustion. This morning she had woken to find him standing beside the bed, holding the paddle. Though shocked, she didn't protest at all when he turned her over and whacked her bottom. It hurt unbearably and Sherry was sobbing when it was over. She longed for Ryan to caress her but he simply left wishing her a "wonderful" day.

So now poor Sherry had spent the day wincing and walking and blushing whenever anyone looked at her oddly. She felt as awkward as a girl at her first dance. She didn't know where to look, what to say, or who to talk to. She couldn't concentrate on her work at all. Casual compliments like, "You are looking rosy today, Sherry," flustered her into a tongue-tied silence. Sherry was positive that everyone had to be able to see what was going on, had to know. Didn't the glow of her ass shine forth through her skirt? Couldn't anyone smell the scent of arousal on her when they passed? Her legs were practically dripping!

Sherry wiggled in her chair some more, the rough texture of the cloth sending ripples of sensation through her sore bottom. Oh, it felt so good and sore. She couldn't imagine it being any more tender. Just a hand pat would bring tears to her eyes.

Thinking of a hand pat sent a surge of life through her sex. Sherry gasped and bent further over her desk, pulling out a thick dictionary and rifling through it for no reason but to appear busy. She taped at some keys on the computer and looked at the meaningless screen as though it held the answers to the universe.

Three o'clock. Just two more hours and she could go home. She wanted desperately to be home, somewhere private where she could touch herself, feel her the little welts and bruises of her tender bottom, massage the wet place between her legs.

But she was stuck, surrounded by suspicious co-workers, her embarrassment all the greater because she was in a public place. She could do nothing but wiggle and wonder, her mind reliving the experiences of the night before. She knew there would be more to come tonight--Ryan had almost threatened it, and he was extremely reliable.

Desperately Sherry threw herself into her work, trying to lose herself inside casebooks and dry files. It seemed like forever but finally five o'clock came around. Never had she been so eager to escape. She practically ran out the front door, ignoring the snide glances of several of the secretaries.

She no longer cared what they imagined. Her mind was filled with just one thought, one goal, and that was to get home as quickly as possible so Ryan could take her before she went berserk with passion and lost all control.

The drive home was interminable. The traffic was horrid and Sherry fidgeted nervously, the backs of her legs stinging with sweat against the car seat. She tried to stare straight ahead and ignore the pointed looks of the other drivers. She didn't care if she was making a sense. Let them think her panties were bunching up her crack. As long as they did not know the real reason she wiggled she could live with it.

Finally, in the living room, she kicked off her shoes and stripped off the rest of her clothes. Standing there completely naked, she felt her body swelling with sexual tension and pent-up desire.

She sighed and shivered. He would be home soon. She knew he would be angry she'd scattered her clothes about the house.

She could hardly wait....

The End