The Bar

Rate This Story:

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 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.

Purchase this story in print form!


Don't like reading on screen? This story is available in print form in Ultimate Archive: Volume 3 at the Flogmaster's Bookstore. Purchase your copy today to encourage the Flogmaster to write more cool stories.

The Bar

(*****, M/F, Severe, paddling, spanking, sex)

A man visits a unique club in San Francisco. (Approximately 6,833 words. Originally published 2004-01.)

Recently I had a remarkable experience I just have to share.

I was having a terrible day. Work had been insane lately. Our company was merging with another and some days it looked like I might get a promotion, and on other days it felt like I might be one of the layoffs. I was working 12-hour days most of the time. My girlfriend and I had just had another fight and it was looking like she might be moving out. Then my boss got the flu and sent me to San Francisco on two hours notice. For all I knew Sarah wouldn't be there when I got home.

Of course the flight was delayed, so I spent three hours at the airport, waiting, and my laptop crashed and refused to boot, and I didn't have any backup disks with me. And did I mention the ATM machine ate my card? (The bank was real helpful. Thirty minutes after I called, a workman showed up and put an "Out of Order" sign on the machine. Then he left.)

Anyway, I arrived in SF hungry, grouchy, sweaty, and royally pissed off at the world. The only good piece of news was that I had managed to get a hold of an old college buddy of mine and he'd promised to pick me up at the airport. Eric had moved to San Francisco about ten years ago and though we've talked on occasion, I hadn't seen him in at least that long.

I almost didn't recognize him. I wouldn't have, really, if he hadn't seen me first. I guess I haven't changed much in ten years. Eric, on the other hand, was impressive. He looked fit and healthy -- extremely fit and healthy. He was dressed to the nines in what was obviously an expensive, custom-made suit. I felt even worse about my own drabby appearance: I still wore the six-year-old brown suit I'd put on 18 hours earlier.

"You must be doing well for yourself," I said as we headed for the baggage area.

"Tops," laughed Eric. "It comes in faster than I can spend it, and I spend it easily!"

I felt a twinge of jealousy. Eric and I had graduated the same year, but he'd obviously done better than me. Not that I was starving or anything. I had a nice 401K, owned a home, and I was looking into buying a summer place by the lake. Nothing too elaborate, mind you, just a cabin. But it was about 60K and with the job situation rather haphazard right now, I felt it best to wait until the chips fell.

"What are you into?" I asked. "I mean, I know you started your own company, but what do you do?"

Eric grinned. "I don't do anything -- my employees do the work." He laughed, pointing a bright pink suitcase curling past us. "Is that yours?"

I shook my head, laughing with him.

"Seriously," he continued, "I network. That's my job. I meet with the presidents and CEOs of top high tech companies. I take them out for drinks, we shmooze, we play golf, you know the shit. Then they sign contracts giving my company millions."

"Sounds like fun," I said.

"It's the only thing I'm good at. All that tech talk goes right over my head. I've got a geek I bring along to handle that shit."

By this time I was starting to get a bad feeling. The pink bag had gone past us three times already, and I had yet to see my suitcase. There were only a handful of bags left. A few minutes later I knew with certainty that they'd lost my luggage.

After filling out the forms from a bored airline clerk, we left. Eric told me not to worry.

"We're about the same size. You come stay at my place and I'll fix you up."

"Thanks, Eric, but I couldn't that. Besides, the company's got a suite for me at the Wilton."

We stopped in front of black limo. The driver opened the door for us. I looked at Eric in astonishment. He shrugged. "Driving's a bitch in the city."

Once inside, Eric poured me a drink. As I sat back, relaxing for the first time in many, many hours, I saw he was watching me quizzically. "How much they shell out for that pad at the Wilton? One-seventy-five, two hundred a night? And you're here for three nights? Tell you what you do: talk to the manager. For a C-note, he'll copy you some receipts. You let the hotel rent the room to someone else and the company will pay you for the stay. With meals and other crap you'll pocket five, six hundred, easy."

"I don't know..."

"Come on. I know the manager over there. Good guy. I put clients up there all the time."

Five hundred tax-free dollars sounded nice, but it seemed risky. At little cheap, too. It sounded just like Eric. "What if someone calls the hotel?"

"Who's gonna call the hotel? They'll call your cellular. And if someone does, the manager will just tell 'em you're out."

Eric pulled out his own cell phone. "Watch." In seconds he was talking to the manager at the Wilton. "Hey, Jack. Eric Larson. Right. Oh, doing fine. Listen, I've got a friend of mine here. His company is putting him up there. Name's Nathaniel Hilderblast."

Eric put his hand over the mouthpiece and winked at me. "It will be fine," he whispered. Then back into the phone: "Yeah, three nights. Anyway, he's going to stay at my place. So go ahead and use the room, but bill the client. Yes. Of course. Sure, I'm sure his company doesn't mind a few room service items tacked on. Pad it heavy and take off your cut. Yeah, Nat will pick up his share on Friday. Sweet. You're a genius, Jack! Oh, and if his company calls, just say he's out. Right. Forward any messages to me. Talk to you later."

I shook my head. "You've got guts, Eric. I never would have had the nerve to do that."

"That's why you still work for that piddling firm," he laughed, putting away his phone.

"They did $210 million last year," I said defensively. "When we finish the merger we'll have combined sales of nearly $300 million."

Eric nodded. "Like I said, a piddling firm." Then he burst out laughing. "To when you're CEO," he said, clinking his drink with mine.

I looked out the tinted window, watching the city lights flash by. "Are you sure you don't mind me crashing at your place?" I said. "I didn't give you much notice."

"Hell, if you saw my place you wouldn't even ask that."

"Plenty of room?"

"I've been there four years and I haven't even seen all the rooms."

I leaned back. "Thanks, Eric. I mean really. I appreciate this. It's been a shitty day."

That's when the gleam showed up in Eric's eyes. He leaned forward. "How are you and that girl you were seeing doing?"

"Shitty," I said.

"You too tired for a little entertainment?"

There was something mysterious in his manner that made me sit up. "What do you have in mind?"

Eric didn't answer. He pressed a button and the partition between us and the driver rolled down. "Leo, change of plans. Take us to Burdesky's."

"What's Burdesky's?" I asked.

"A bar. A very special bar. Only a handful of members are allowed. We can bring guests, of course. I only bring my top clients."

"I'm honored," I said.

It was true, I was. But I was also a bit disappointed. From Eric's manner I'd expected something extraordinary. No doubt this bar had a few high-class whores and that was the primary attraction. I wasn't opposed to a hooker, especially not after a day like today, but paying for it always felt cheap.

When the limo stopped, Eric winked at me. "Sorry, pal, but rules are rules."

From somewhere he produced a black bandana and proceeded to blindfold me. It was already dark outside and with the cloth over my eyes I could see nothing. He grabbed my hand and let me.

We climbed out of the limo, walked a bit on pavement, then went through a doorway. That was followed by several flights of stairs, a very long corridor, more stairs, and finally we stopped. The blindfold was taken off.

I was standing in a non-descript hallway. Very plain and ordinary, looking like the bowels of some 1970's office building. The double doors before me were large, and the way Eric stood, motioning for me to open them, implied something grand.

I still wasn't expecting much, but the sight blew me away. This was to an ordinary bar the way a thousand dollar bottle of wine was to sewer water.

The place was a palace. Everything was polished wood and gleaming gold. Along the left side of the room was the bar. The stash of expensive bottles behind it was encased in glass cabinets and just a glance told me I was looking at hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of liquor.

The rest of the huge room was filled with small tables well apart. It had a country club atmosphere, with sofas and recliners, wooden columns, and towering ferns. Each set of sofa and table was in its own secluded area. The room, I saw, wandered all over. There were various levels, lots of corners, and the large plants and columns gave the illusion of privacy. The room wasn't brightly lit, with the only lights coming from small glowing lanterns at each table. I didn't see any guests.

A sweet smell swept past me and my jaw fell open and I literally began to salivate. The woman who passed me was stunning. She wore an elegant red and black waitress uniform. The jacket was black and red checkers, the skirt solid black and obscenely short. Red leather boots that went all the way to her knees completed the outfit.

The clothes only enhanced an incredible package, however. The woman was Grade A prime. She had long curly blond hair and a killer face. I only caught a glimpse, but her face only was model material. I had no doubt it could handle a full-page fashion mag blow up.

But her body! God, it hurt just to watch her walk past. The first thing I noticed were her hips swaying -- she had marvelous hips. The ball of her ass, covered by the flap of her black skirt, rolled juicily as she walked. Then she turned at the bar and set down her tray. My eyes swelled.

Her jacket was open at the front and she wore nothing underneath. I mean _nothing_. Leaning against the bar, one leg on the gold foot pole, her jacket fell open. I caught sight of a splendid female figure. Her breasts were high, firm, and just the right size for a man's hand. Not absurd gourds, but healthy, human, _female_ breast-size, absolutely perfect.

After staring at the woman for a quarter-hour or so, it dawned on me that she was looking back at me. My eyes raised to hers and I saw she was smiling. I blushed furiously and tried to look away, but I couldn't.

Then the blond goddess turned and walked toward me. She didn't walk fast or slow, just normal. Her breasts jiggled sightly as she moved, shifting left to right. She stopped right before me. Her eyes flashed to Eric, who I'd completely forgotten was next to me, and then back to me. Her smile was friendly, welcoming, and sincere. Her teeth looked like she'd just come back from a cleaning. They were so white it was like looking right at the sun.

"May I get you drinks, gentlemen?"

Her voice was soft and deep and strong, full of confidence. She was a woman. She knew she was attractive and had no problem with that. Yet she didn't flaunt it, she just enjoyed it.

I wondered how old she was. Physically she looked like a twenty-year-old, but her personality and confidence screamed out experience. I put her between twenty and thirty.

"We'll take a bottle of your best Scotch," Eric was saying. "At my usual table."

"Of course." The girl slowly turned, a whimsical smile on her face, her eyes locked with mine. She walked toward the bar. Her scent filled my nostrils and I almost ran after her.

"Where the hell did they find her!" I exclaimed in breathless awe.

"That's Shara," he said. "She's been here a couple years. Nice, eh?"

"Nice? She's the best looking girl I've seen in all my life, that's all I've got to say!"

Eric laughed, and began leading me through the club. "You need to get out more, then. Shara's not bad, but she's only one girl. Wait until you meet the others."

"There's no way--" I was saying when I my mind slipped a cog and I forgot the rest of my sentence.

A second waitress was approaching. She wore the same outfit as Shara, and though I didn't want to admit it, was almost as gorgeous. She was an unusually tall Asian girl, with creamy tan skin and a face that looked like a portrait. Her hips were not as pronounced as Shara's, but her waist was so narrow it was like she was wearing a corset. Yet I could see her flat belly, smoothly rising to two perfect breasts, each the size of half of an orange. The brown nipples were long and stiff, bobbing at me as she passed. Her smile to me was intimate, as though we'd been friends a long time.

"Donna," whispered Eric. "She's pretty amazing. Very athletic, flexible. Used to be a gymnast. She can get in positions--"

"You've SLEPT with her!" I nearly shouted.

Eric frowned, pulling me into a sofa. "Keep your voice down," he whispered. "Relax. Like I said, this is an exclusive, very special club. People here don't like scenes, so calm down."

I nodded weakly, sinking into the soft couch. "So the girls," I said in a normal voice, "they're... available?"

"Of course."

"Oh my God!"

Eric frowned at me again. "They're not whores," he said firmly. "They're just girls. They work here. They enjoy sex. If you're nice to them and they like you, well, you'll score."

"So they don't do it for money?"

"Well, their time is valuable, of course. So we do compensate them. But it's entirely their choice. They're under no obligation to sleep with anyone they don't want to."

"But they generally do," I said, feeling more confident. "After all, Donna slept with you."

Eric gave me a sour look. "Funny."

At that moment there was a movement and Shara was there. She carefully set down her tray with a bottle and two glasses. The table was low, almost a coffee table, and when she bent over, her breasts fell out of the jacket, dangling a scant foot from my face. My saliva glands went into overdrive.

"Your drinks, gentlemen," she said calmly. "Would you like me to pour?"

Eric smiled. "If you wish."

Shara opened the bottle and poured doubles for each of us. "You two look like you need it," she explained.

"Thank you," I croaked, speaking to her for the first time. My heart was thumping like it hadn't done since I asked Marylou to dance at the Prom.

"Hard day?" she asked as I gulped down the Scotch. It was fiercely good, and I held out my glass for another.

"Terrible."

"You'd better take it easy."

"We've got a driver." I downed the drink and felt it seeping through my body. I suddenly wanted to get drunk, really drunk. I knew if I did, I wouldn't feel guilty about anything between me and Shara. I held out my glass again. I tried not to notice that my hand was shaking.

Shara took my hand in her left, steadying me. She glanced at Eric, then slowly poured me another. She took her time, dribbling in the liquor a few drops at a time. I sat patiently, my mind already spinning. At that moment, I would have done anything she asked.

Suddenly there was a sharp movement. I didn't even see what happened, but I came back to reality as a coldness splashed across the front of my pants. I stared downward as the liquor stained my crotch, belatedly realizing Shara was pouring the Scotch into my lap!

"Hey!" I cried, leaping up and pushing the bottle away. "You-- Oh, shit, look at my pants!"

Actually, that was the last thing I wanted anyone, Shara especially, to do, because it was painfully obvious that I was aroused. As soon as I realized this I tried to cover my crotch with my hands, but a distraught Shara was pawing at my hands.

"I'm so sorry, terribly sorry," she cried. She knelt in front of me. "Here, let me take care of that for you."

Before I knew what she had in mind, she was unbuckling my belt. My pants had a little trouble getting down over the bulge in front, but she guided them expertly.

"Hey," I said weakly, but it was too late. My pants were sliding down my legs. "What are you doing?"

"Ah, a boxer man," Shara giggled. "Need lots of room down there, do we?"

My face was crimson. I covered my erection with my hands and frantically looked around to see if there was anyone else around. We were seemingly alone. Eighty percent of the tables were unused, at least at the moment.

"I'll take your pants and have them cleaned," Shara said. "Let's get them off."

In a daze, I cooperated as she helped me out of my shoes and slid off my pants. I kept telling myself this was crazy, but each time Shara looked up a me, crystal blue eyes shining brightly and red lips curled into a friendly, apologetic smile, I could do nothing but go along with her plans.

"You seem tense, sir," Shara said. Her hands were on mine, moving them aside. They had no strength to resist her. Her palms pressed against the front of my thighs and moved upward. I felt myself stiffen. Her face bent closer, closer, and then her lips made contact.

Through my shorts she kissed my cockhead. Then one hand slid behind to squeeze my ass, while the other cupped my balls.

"Oh, very tense," she breathed.

I couldn't move, couldn't even think.

My shorts came down, right there, standing beside the table in the middle of a large club with who knew how many people about. Shara's lips embraced my dick expertly. I was so hard I worried about hurting her mouth.

But she showed no hesitation, engulfing me with her warm, wet, opening. She pumped me slightly, going back and forth on my shaft. Looking down, I saw this gorgeous blond girl kneeling in front of me, her cheeks bulging. Her back was arched, the flare of her hips and buttocks spreading out behind her. She was so beautiful. I could scarcely believe this was real.

Then I was spurting furiously into her mouth. I convulsed massively several times, then gave a series of smaller, less violent shudders. Shara kept her mouth on me the whole time. When I finished, she sucked on me for a few more seconds, then slowly withdrew. The smile on her face reminded me of a playful teenager. She licked her lips.

"Did that help your tension, sir?" she asked.

I just groaned and sank onto the couch. My boxers were still around my ankles.

She picked up my pants. "I'll have these cleaned now, sir."

As she started to turn, Eric cleared his throat. Once again, I'd forgotten all about him. "Don't think you're getting off that easy," he said sternly.

Shara's blue eyes blinked innocently. "Sir?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You carelessly spilled alcohol on my friend, my _guest_, and you think a blowjob and some laundry will make up for that?"

The girl stood at attention, breasts nicely erect and pointing at Eric, but her eyes looked down at the ground. "No sir," she said quietly. "I deserve to be punished for my actions."

"That's right. So bring back some equipment and we'll take care of matters properly."

Shara looked worried. "Sir, couldn't we just... couldn't _he_ just... with his hand?"

"Of course not, child! You shall be punished extra just for suggesting such an absurdity!"

Shara looked like Eric had slapped her in the face. She blushed, nodded, bowed to me, and vanished with a wag of her pretty bottom.

I stared at Eric in shock. Who was this man? He seemed totally different there. All commanding and fierce, and strangely formal speech.

"Look, Eric," I said, rising and pulling my shorts back on. "It's okay. It was a mistake, that's all. She didn't mean anything. I don't know what you have in mind, but believe me, she's more than paid for her mistake. That was the best blowjob I've had -- ever. By a long distance, too. The girl's a wizard."

Eric cocked his head slightly, his lips pursed with humor. "You haven't seen anything yet, Nat. Just be patient."

"What are you going to do?"

"Just watch."

Suddenly, things started to click. "You... you aren't going to hurt her, are you Eric? Cause I won't allow that. She's a sweet girl. Just a little clumsy, that's all."

"Are you dense?" Eric hissed suddenly. "You think she spilled that on accident? She was after you the moment we walked in here. New blood and all. She's looking for a little fun, and you're the ticket. So get on board and enjoy the ride."

I fell silent, trying to make sense of what Eric was telling me. I remembered the look of amusement Shara had been giving me when she'd caught me staring at her by the front door. And I remembered how deftly she poured the drinks initially. She wasn't the least bit clumsy. Had she really gone to all that trouble just to get my pants off? She could have just asked!

My thoughts were interrupted by the presence of the one I was thinking about. Shara was back. She was different now, more subdued. She carried some items and dropped them on the table in front of Eric.

"Here you are, sir. I hope these are satisfactory."

Eric examined them as I sat there dumbstruck. The first item he picked up was a leather sheath of some kind. At least that's what I thought it was, until I saw it had a handle. Then I knew it was a paddle. It looked like the one our principal had in high school, with a blade of about four by twelve, yet it was made of leather. Eric bent the blade. It was flexible.

Next was a riding crop. It was a real one, not a toy. It was two feet long, covered with leather, and on the end was a rectangular leather flap. It was thin and whippy. A shiver went down my spin.

Eric put down the crop and picked up a hairbrush. For a second I was confused, thinking it had gotten into the mix by mistake, but then Eric patted the back of the brush against his palm. I saw the back was smooth and wide, making an excellent paddle.

Under the hairbrush was a strap. It was about three inches wide, and made of thick leather, at least an eighth of an inch. The strap was a couple feet long and the final six inches or so was split into two narrower tails.

But Eric grabbed the final item, a long slender white rod. It looked like a cane in that it had a curved handle, but it was far too thin to use as support for walking. Eric bent it, showing me how flexible it was.

At this point I glanced at Shara. She was standing by the table, her cat's eyes glowing with... excitement? My eyes caught hers and for a second she smiled, then she resumed her meek, subdued expression.

"Shara," said Eric sternly. "You have been a very naughty girl. You deserve to be punished most thoroughly."

"Yes sir," breathed the girl obediently.

"Your offense was against my guest, but since this is his first time here, I shall assist him in administering your punishment. Is that acceptable?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good." Eric put down the cane and took up the leather paddle. "I'll begin with a few of these, then I think Nat will get the idea and give you a proper warm up."

"Where would you like me, sir?"

"Over that table there," Eric said, pointing at a table across from us. "That should give Nat a good view."

Shara walked to the table and stood in front of it. She slid her legs apart a bit, then bent forward, across the table. Her arms went behind, resting at the small of her back. My angle of view was not directly behind her, so while I got an excellent view of her ass, I could also see her bare breasts squish against the undoubtedly cool surface. She turned her face toward me and pressed her left cheek against the table. She was smiling.

Her rear end poked upward and outward, the skimpy skirt rising so high I could almost see the lower curves of her ass. For the first time, I realized how magnificent her rump was. She was by no means an overweight girl, being fit and slender, yet her hips were very wide, giving her a remarkably full bottom. Her thighs were thick, like tree trunks, smoothly tapering to narrow ankles. She was certainly a well-built girl, not scrawny at all.

If she had any fat, it was in her ass. It was very plump and round. The skirt, of course, hid her cleft from my analysis, but judging from the shapely bulges and the way the skirt hung away from her thigh by a couple inches, her butt was quite impudent. The thought of the leather paddle smacking that rump aroused me something fierce. I had a brief vision of those sweet cheeks, naked, jiggling and turning pink.

My erection was intense again, as Eric stood behind Shara, admiring her ass. The paddle was in his hand, long and wide, and he brought it forward to gently pat Shara's butt. Shara wiggled slightly, shifting the weight from one leg to the other, her ass rolling in response.

If I'd had a thought earlier of stopping this, it was long gone. Shara's cooperation, her smile to me, and my own lust at seeing her in this humiliating position meant I no longer cared about political correctness. If Shara wanted to be spanked, who was I to stop it?

Eric pulled back with the paddle and delivered a sharp slap to the offered bottom. There was a gentle grunt, and Shara's body bounced forward slightly. Her eyes were open, watching me. She was still smiling.

Again the paddle smacked. I felt a thrill as the skirt lifted slightly, giving me the faintest glimpse of bottom flesh. I peered hard and wondered what kind of underwear Shara wore. Perhaps a thong?

Eric paddled slowly, a smack every fifteen or twenty seconds. It was as though he had all the time in the world.

Shara never said anything. She grunted occasionally, when a hard swat made her body shudder. But her smile never faded. In fact, I could have sworn it was bigger than before the paddling started!

After a few minutes -- perhaps a dozen swats -- Eric stopped. He walked forward and put his hand on Shara's ass. She didn't move. He rubbed his hand around both cheeks, then, without warning, lifted her skirt.

I gasped. Shara wore no panties at all.

Eric folded the skirt up onto her back, using her hands to help hold it in place. I sat and stared at the most gorgeous bottom I have ever seen.

As good as I'd imagined it from the bulge of her skirt, Shara's ass was even more stunning naked. Nude, one saw the acres of creamy smooth skin. There was no sign of tan lines at all. Either Shara didn't tan or she tanned nude.

Fat? If Shara's ass was fat we all should be so blessed. It was certainly plump, but every bit of flesh was smooth and well-toned. Every curve was pronounced, firm, and magnificently sexy.

Shara's crack was deep and long, going up high to the small of her back and widening into her pussy below. Her cheeks were so split they left little to the imagination. I could see the dark smudge of her asshole, the spread lips of her sex, and even the sliver of her clitoris poking out, like a tongue beween pursed lips. Tiny pussy hairs surrounded this area, looking furry and warm. I wanted to pet her.

It was then I realized, to my acute embarrassment, that I had risen and was standing directly behind Shara. I was kneeling, staring at her ass. I didn't even remember getting up!

Eric just grinned and lifted the paddle. I stepped back. He walloped it forward, and sharp stinging blow. Shara squealed slightly, but I saw she was still had her smile. She wiggled her butt a bit to assuage the sting.

She was unbelievably sexy. I wanted to fuck her right there. Perhaps even up the ass, though I'd never done that before.

The skin of her bottom was a light pink now. I could tell the difference between where she'd been spanked and where she hadn't. Eric seemed to notice that, too, and proceeded to try to spank away all the whiteness.

"Let's get it all nice and pink," he said at one point. I just stood there, mesmerized by the jiggling cheeks.

I realized now that Eric was not paddling her very hard, just light but stingy swats. Occasionally he slipped in a wallop, but most were mild, just warming her bottom. I wondered how Shara would react to a real, full-force blow, one that would put her on her toes. Was that too much ask of her?

Suddenly Eric stopped. He was breathing a bit, but grinning like a naughty kid. Shara remained obediently in position, though she was looking back at me, almost expectantly.

"Nat, it was you Shara offended. Don't you think it was time you warmed her a bit?"

A dream come true, discounting the fact that it was a dream that had only occurred to me a few minutes earlier. Beaming, I reached eagerly for the paddle.

Eric shook his head. "Try with your hand first. I think you'll both like that."

Though I'd been looking forward to giving Shara a real swat, the idea of my hand on her bare cheeks was appealing. I nodded and stepped up behind her.

Close up, her ass was awesome. I put a hand on her thigh. Her skin was warm, and she smelled wonderful. It was a combination of perfume and female smells. I snuck a peek between her legs and saw considerable moisture. She was aroused.

I slid my hand up to her left cheek. The skin was steaming, much hotter than it looked from the mild pink coloring. She was really hot!

For several minutes, I played with Shara's lovely ass. I massaged the sensitive flesh, petted those smooth curves, and gently pinched the plump cheeks. Shara moaned and rolled her buns back and forth, obviously enjoying the attention immensely.

I spoke to her as I caressed her buttocks. I told her what a naughty girl she was, how much she deserved a red hot bottom. She was aroused, so I scolded her, calling her a naughty, disgusting slut that need discipline.

There was more along those lines. I have no idea where it all came from. It just seemed like the right thing to say.

My words seemed to excited Shara, especially when I told her about how hard I was going to spank her. With such encouragement, I pressed ahead.

"When I'm finished with you these buns are going to be lobster red," I said in my sternest voice. "I'm going to paddle these cheeks until they're flat as bed sheets. I will whip your ass so hard you won't be able to sit for week! Starting tomorrow, just that flimsy skirt flopping down on your butt is going to bring tears to your eyes."

Shara's moans were loud and intense, and I realized suddenly that it was time. Without even really thinking about it, I pulled back my hand and brought it forward in a hard spank.

I'd never spanked a soul before, but it felt wonderfully natural. My fingers tingled with the contact, and I felt Shara's butt shudder beneath my palm. I kept my hand there, enjoying the sensation, then pulled it back and smacked the same cheek again.

It was joyous. Shara's butt was solid, yet it had just the right amount of bounce. After several swats my hand was stinging, but I knew that Shara's ass was hurting more.

I moved to the other cheek and continued. After the first dozen or so, I fell into a rhythm. Through Shara's reaction, I began to sense when she needed a hard smack or a soft one, and I tried to accommodate. Sometimes I did the opposite of what she wanted just to throw her off guard and keep her on her toes. When the spanks really hurt, she tossed her head around, letting her long blond hair fly. Sometimes she groaned.

How long this lasted, I don't know. A long time, I suspect. I remember stopping a few times to rub Shara's butt, but then I'd resume the spanking, each time a little harder and faster.

Suddenly Eric was there, grabbing my hand. "Aren't you getting sore?" he asked.

I stared at my hand. It was almost as red as Shara's ass. The fingers had thickened and the palm was puffy. It hurt, I realized with surprise. It hurt just to move it.

"God, what did I do!" I cried, wincing. "My hand feels like it went through a meat grinder."

"Look at her ass," Eric said.

Indeed, I felt a pang of sympathy for the poor girl. Her butt was magenta. I'll bet that from a distance you'd have thought she had on a pair of red panties.

But Shara was still obediently bent over, waiting the rest of her punishment. I peeked between her legs and she was dripping. This spanking had turned on her faucet!

"Use the paddle," Eric grinned, and I nodded.

The leather covered handle felt strange in my hand. I couldn't hold it tightly, my hand was so sore, but I did any way. I waved the paddle through the air a few times. It was heavier than I'd thought, but I could feel the blade bend in the breeze. This would really smack down hard, I realized. The sting on bare skin must be fierce.

I patted Shara's butt with the paddle. Her head went up and I heard her suck in her breath. She knew what that was. On impulse, I rubbed her butt with the paddle blade, smooth leather to smooth skin. Shara moaned and wiggled her ass. She was ready, eager even.

The smack of the paddle was incredibly loud. I realized after I done how hard I'd swung, much, much harder than Eric had earlier. I looked at Shara, half expecting her to leaping about the room, clutching at her fiery ass.

But she was in position, breathing heavily, and moaning. Her butt was shifting back and forth and her hands were squeezed tightly together. A bright red blotch was blossoming across the middle of Shara's bottom.

"Nice one!" laughed Eric. "Give her a dozen like that and I doubt she'll be spilling any more drinks."

That sounded like an excellent idea, so I obliged. I swung the second blow just like the first, except with a bit more control. It caught her heavily across both cheeks and for the first time Shara opened her mouth.

"Yowch!" she hollered, throwing her hair around. Her feet did a little tap dance, making her buns dance delightfully, but she kept in position. I admired her tremendous will power. Her butt looked scorched; I doubted I could have taken such a blow without getting up.

WHACK! I gave her another. This was one was low, essentially across her upper thighs and lower buns. It brought forth another cry, though this one was completely incoherent.

SMACK! POP! THWACK!

Shara's buns danced for me. Her ass felt so good through the paddle. It was different than when I'd spanked her with my hand. There I had a tendency to squeeze, to cop a feel, I guess. With the paddle all I was doing was smacking bottomflesh, enjoying the way the buttocks rolled and quivered. This was pure pain delivery, efficient and deadly.

Shara loved it. She squealed sharply with every wallop now, wiggling delightfully between blows, throwing her hair around like it was the end of a dustmop.

At first her behavior had concerned me, but when I glanced between her legs I saw she was still aroused, and her eyes were closed as though in an ecstatic trance. Her mouth opened occasionally for long, breathy moans. It sounded like she was making love. Once she even whispered, "Harder," and I gave her real stinger that brought forth a high-pitched shriek.

I nearly dropped the paddle, worried I'd injured her. She was convulsing, her body rocking wildly. Then she flashed a grin over her shoulder at me, tears trickling down her face. "Thank you," she mouthed, eyes shining, and I realized she'd just had a powerful orgasm.

Though I didn't count, I believe I gave her a couple dozen really hard smacks with that paddle. She really relished the pain. Her butt was scarlet, and a bit blistered. I squeezed and fondled the cheeks for a while afterward, and there were dozens of tiny pebble-like welts under the skin. She told me not to worry, that they would go away in a few days.

She was kissing me then, and I don't remember much in the way of exact details. We were in a private room somewhere, and Eric had disappeared. When I appeared concerned, Shara told me he was with Melody.

"Who's Melody?" I asked, but forgot the question immediately when Shara bit my ear. "God you smell good," I mumbled, and I slipped into her. She was so wet I was sloshing around. I remember joking about needing hip boots and she slapped me, but after that it was all a blissful blur. I certainly remember certain events, but the images are like still pictures from a drunken party: everything's out of sequence and unreal.

I do remember the next morning. Shara was still there, looking gorgeous as ever. We got up and showered together, and then made slow sweet love, fiercely passionate. Her bottom was still red and sore, and she teased me when I acted sympathetic.

"It's nothing," she giggled. "You have the strength of a ninety-year-old grandmother."

"Why you litte--" I cried, running out of ideas for a good insult. Instead I attacked her, intending to spank her. I got in a few swats, but then she begged off, pleading for mercy, and we ended up making love yet again.

Then it was time to go. She gave me a sweet kiss, told me I was welcome any time, and was gone. Eric showed up a few minutes later.

We went to his house to change clothes -- oddly I looked better in one of his old thousand dollar suits than I did in my own three hundred dollar special -- and I even managed to get to my first day's meeting on time. I had been apprehensive the day before, being a last minute sub for my boss and all, but that day nothing could faze me. I was cool and in control. At the presentation I kicked ass.

Two months later, I called up Eric. "Guess what? My boss is being transferred to Europe."

"Yeah? So?"

"So guess who's getting his job?"

"Hey, congrats old man!"

"There's only one problem. One of my responsibilities is handling our San Francisco contacts. That means I'll have to visit there, oh, every other month or so."

Eric laughed. "I know what you're thinking, you dirty rat."

"Hey, come on. Shara said I was welcome any time."

"Come on back and I'll introduce you to Ginger."

"Who's Ginger?"

His only response was more laughter.

The End

Rate This Story: