Fantasy 009: Joe

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 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

Fantasy009: Joe

(***, M6/f12, Intense, nudity, chasing, spanking, orgy)

A man tells of a game of chasing naked young girls around a park at night. (Approximately 1,153 words. Originally published 1996-03.)

There are six of us and a dozen of them. They are all young, naive, innocent, staring at the ground, up into the night sky; anything but look directly at us. They are beautiful, wide-eyed and nervous, their slim bodies obvious in their tight jeans and T-shirts. One of the girls licks her lips as she watches me.

With a grin at the guys I open the trunk and pull out six wooden paddles, large and heavy. The eyes of the girls grow to saucer-size and they look at each other with apprehension as I pass the paddles to my pals.

"Off with the shirts, girls," I say calmly as my men line up beside me, each of us holding our paddle upright in front of us like a deadly sword.

The nudity does not really bother them--it's what the nudity portends that makes them nervous. One by one each slips off their top and soon the twelve girls are standing hands on their hips, naked from the waist up. Twenty-four perfectly pert breasts exposed before me, trembling slightly against the night chill, the nipples sharp and erect. Six guys holding paddles attempt to discretely adjust their too-tight jeans.

Then it begins. Slowly at first, and then with panicked speed, the girls begin to run across the wet grass, their bare feet slipping and sliding awkwardly. The men close in. I focus on a petite blonde with a terrific round ass and I rush at her, catching her butt with a loud wallop from my paddle. She squeals loudly but her cries are immediately drowned out by the thunderous blows of paddles throughout the park.

Suddenly it is sweet chaos. Half-naked girls are running everywhere, guys with huge paddles smacking bottoms right and left. The girls are wearing thick Levis so there isn't much pain, really, but every blow stings and there's a humiliating rudeness at getting your butt spanked.

Then I called out "Halt!" and everyone freezes. The tall blonde with frizzled hair and huge bobbing breasts I'd been chasing tries to stop but takes a step, and then a smaller one. She stops, her face slowly raising to mine, her eyes frightened. I grin and nod and all hope flees from her face. She is doomed and knows it.

"Grab your ankles."

She obeys immediately, bending over and keeping her legs straight in the process. Without much preamble I wallop her ass hard with the paddle, again and again, steadily and without pausing. She whimpers and moans occasionally, the air hissing through her clenched teeth a couple times as the paddle finally penetrates her thick jeans.

"Seven... eight... nine... _ten_!" screams the crowd as I spank the blonde, the girls in high-pitched voices filled with alarm, the guys with laughter and lust.

It is done and the chase continues until one of the guys calls a halt and selects a victim for punishment. He selects a short girl with dark-hair and a plump ass that has eluded my paddle all night. He spanks her hard, though, and she's yelping by the third blow. I enjoy it immensely, watching her squirm and struggle to stay in position, legs straight and hands gripping her ankles.

Again and again this happens until each guy has called a freeze once. Then I order everyone to regroup back at the car. The paddles are put away and I pass out narrow riding crops. "Off with the jeans, girls."

There are groans and cries of dismay at this order, but everyone obeys. Twelve girls in skimpy panties stand before us. I wave and the game begins again, and this time the strokes are felt. The running now is real, the terror no longer feigned, the cries earnest.

Again we each call a pause and select a pretty girl to taste individual discipline while everyone else counts out loud. The girl selected inevitably is in tears by the time the lashing is over, her pale bottom glowing with red lines visible through her thin panties.

When each of us has punished our slut and we are panting with exertion from the awkwardness of running with our cocks so stiff in our pants, I call the final time out and collect the girls' underwear.

Totally naked they stand shivering in the cool breeze. They aren't really cold but frightened, and they have good reason. For now I put away the riding crops and pass out thick strips of leather. One girl begins to cry just seeing the instruments of torture.

We do not waste much time but immediately begin our chase, catching a few of the girls off-guard, their yelps at the stinging slaps of the leather warning the others to run for their lives. The girls run frantically, but they cannot escape. There is no where to go; the park is too small.

One girl slips on the grass and slides a yard or two on her chest. A belt lashes her bottom half-a-dozen times before she manages to get back on her feet.

The stillness of the night is broken by cries of pain and the terrible lashing of leather against flesh. It is exhilarating, forbidden, dangerous. I am ecstatic.

Then the girls begin their attack. They come at us in pairs, one girl sacrificing her bottom to the lash while the other takes care of removing our pants. When our cocks are free the girls switch roles, the whipped girl eagerly swallowing the cock whole while the other offers her bottom for punishment.

It is too much for me. A warm wet tongue glides over my shaft and hot lips grip it tightly. In front of me kneels a gorgeous youngster with wide hips and well-reddened ass. Her cheeks are scarlet with welts and her bare thighs are also striped. Her spread legs hide nothing from me and I can see her slit dripping with juices as she wiggles her hind end at me, eager for me to finish what I've started.

With a groan I pull myself away from the girl mouthing me, my hands rudely squeezing her naked breasts as I push her aside. Without a pause I thrust myself between the legs of the kneeling girl, enjoying the hot feel of her ass against my belly.

She weeps at my punishment, my heavy strokes thrusting through her as though I mean to tear her in two. My manhood bursts as I climax and from then on the night is a hazy dream, a fog of pleasant memories and astonishing daring and resourcefulness. The girls are monsters who will not let me rest but make me ride them again and again and yet again, never satisfied.

I am exhausted when it is over. All of us are half-dead. The park is littered with the sprawled bodies of naked men and women, the orgy of orgasmic bliss accomplished.

The End