Fantasy 006: Julie

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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.

About the Fantasy Series

"What is your deepest, darkest, most secret fantasy?" Those words bring a chill to anyone. To reveal something so private, so personal, is difficult. Yet that's exactly what we have here. In each story, a narrator reveals his or her most private sexual fantasy. In the grand tradition of such things, it is a *fantasy* -- it may not be realistic or even physically possible. It's not necessarily something he/she would want to experience in real life, but the illusion can be appealing. But no matter how bizarre or incomprehensible, fantasies reveal something intimate about ourselves. So . . . learn and enjoy. And send me your fantasies! The Flogmaster

Fantasy 006: Julie

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

A woman dances for and is whipped by her husband. (Approximately 1,166 words. Originally published 1996-03.)

I open my eyes. You are standing before me. We are alone in an empty room. I do not know where we are or how I got here. I am naked. I stand with my hands interlocked behind my head. My stomach turns--I am afraid, though I do not know why. I want to take my hands down and cover myself, but I am afraid that will displease you, so I do not.

"Dance!" you command, so I obey, slowly swaying my hips and turning. I wiggle my naked breasts and writhe in front of you. Dancing is awkward and difficult with my arms up and behind my head, but I do my best. When my back is to you I am surprised to see the entire wall behind me is a mirror. Nothing of my body is shielded from you. I blush and bow my head in shame as I dance for you.

After three or four turns you bid me to stop and face you. My face goes red and my heart pounds in my chest. You are holding a large leather strap. It is very long--perhaps two feet. I am very afraid. I open my mouth to plead with you, to beg for mercy, but I do not speak. The look in your eyes forbids me. You are so proud of my obedience and I cannot stand to see you disappointed. I will cooperate.

The belt brushes across my breasts. You rub it against my nipples and I lean my head back and moan softly. I fear what is to come but for now I am so turned on I want you to take me now. I want to tell you this but instead I only moan, hoping you will understand. You smile and I know you understand, but you continue to tease my body with the leather strip. You rub it along my hips and across the front of my thighs. You poke me between my legs and push it against my sex. I close my eyes and moan louder. I can feel my sex tingling and moisture dripping. It is too much. Please, take me now, I whisper silently, but the belt begins to torment me.

There's a light sting as the belt sweeps by my chest, just catching the tip of my left breast as it passes. The sting isn't much and my breast aches for a more substantial touch. My right breast is treated the same, and then I feel the first gentle slap. My breast wiggles slightly and I can feel my nipples stiffining. My crotch is damp.

Again and again the strap strikes my breasts lightly. My breasts are growing warm. I ache to take my arms down but I do not. I moan and wiggle in frustration. I wish you'd just hurry up and stop tormenting me. I soon get my wish. Becare what you wish for.

The strap is gone for a moment, and then there's a sharp slap against the side of my hip and I feel the belt wrap around me and the tip smacks my right buttcheek with a ferocious sting. It is what I have been expecting, what I need and want, but it hurts very much and suddenly I am afraid. Tears come to my eyes as the strap catches me again, this time from the other side.

Soon the whipping is going full-rate. Smack, smack. smack., smack, with no more than a few seconds of rest in between. The belt alternates between my left side and right buttock, and my right side and left buttock. You are not swinging especially hard, but the way the tip of the strap lashes around and catches my bare skin is devilish. Soon I am jumping and wiggling frantically, moaning loudly to let you know how much it hurts.

I am crying now, tears dripping down my face. It hurts, it really hurts, the tiny loud stings and I am really wiggling now. I do not remove my hands, however, because I know that will upset you. I writhe and cry but I do not speak or move my hands.

But now you increase the tempo of the blows, striking me faster and harder. I yelp with each blow. I see you are watching the mirror behind me and I wonder what my ass must look like, all covered with red splotches from the nasty leather. I can feel the skin of my bottom trembling and constricting on its own and I wonder if you like watching it as I jump and bounce with each loud stroke.

You begin to strike me at odd angles now, wrapping the leather around my thighs and swinging upward to catch the lower portion of my buttocks, or catching me around the waist with a downward stroke that lands stinging blows into the center of my butt, right into the crack.

I am gasping and sobbing. I do not know how much more of this I can take. Then you begin the cruelest blows of all. Smiling at me like a lecherous sailor, you pull back the strap and my heart freezes in panic. You wouldn't! But you do.

You swing the strap upward between my legs, the leather tip slapping my rump from below. The stinging is fierce, but the ache between my legs is far worse. I can feel the stirring in my loins, my sex dripping with passion. Tears pouring down my face. I moan loudly and spread my legs wider and thrust my crotch toward you, silently begging you to satisfy my frantic craving.

You oblige me, the rough caress of the leather brushing my sex again and again. I barely notice the sharp bite of the tip against my ass as I long for the soft touch against across the wet lips of my sex. I am gone, lost in an orgasmic haze of pain and pleasure, low moans my only sound, my body stiffening with the impact of each blow.

As I begin to come, blinding waves of pleasure washing through me, you pull back your lash so the tip lightly strikes against my sex, the wet splat sending shivers through me as the pain and pleasure become one. Weeping, I finally collapse on the floor and curl into a sobbing ball, my body shuddering uncontrollably with an overload of emotion.

Gently I become aware of you near me, your musky scent strong and aroused. I clutch at your and you take me in your arms. I press myself against your naked body, dimly wondering at what point you undressed. Gripping me with animal lust you thrust yourself into me, ignoring my cries of distress and pain at your sudden intrusion. I am exhausted, too tired to struggle, and I collapse in your arms. I let you take me, pumping wildly into me, and I weep quiet, gentle tears of indescribable joy.

The End

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