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
(****, M/F, Severe, public paddling)
A woman accepts a public paddling from her lover. (Approximately 1,846 words. Originally published 1996-03.)
It is to begin now. You are standing there, waiting. My insides tremble in fear and anticipation. For the hundredth time I wonder if I can do this, but I swallow my fear and meekly follow.
We are outside. It is almost noon and the hot sun is blazing. The air is dry and still, the ranch sweltering. I feel as if I am entering an oven. A shiver passes through me as I stand on the porch for a moment to catch my bearings.
I feel very sexy. I am wearing heavy cowboy boots and thick Levis. I did not put on any underwear, and I like the chaffing feeling of the rough denim against my bottom and the way the crotch of my jeans rubs my sex. I am naked from the waist up, the sun warming my breasts and back. It feels good. I feel exposed and naughty. I know that is how you want me to feel.
You head out to the corral on the south side of the ranch and I follow, my head down and my heart pounding. I grow more afraid with every step. I can hear the people, a low rumble like the distant sound of running cattle. They are waiting for me, and I can see them in my mind, leering and taunting me.
But when we arrive that is not what happens. A hush falls over the crowd. There are not many--twenty or thirty of our closest friends, friends who share our unique passions--but I am still nervous because today it is my turn in the spotlight. I am the one to be punished, not them. They can relax and enjoy my experience. I am too involved to enjoy it, though I know the memories will be sweet.
You lead me to the center of the corral, closing the gate behind us. People are gathered around the railing, sitting or standing, eagerly waiting for the show to start. I hear whispers now, awed voices filled with admiration for my bravery and beauty (at least that is what I tell myself they are) and occasional giggles from some of the women.
It is time. You leave me standing alone in the dust. A cheer goes up when you emerge from one side carrying the paddle. My heart quakes and I tremble. I have seen this paddle many times but today it seems even larger and far too painful to endure. Again I wonder if I am going to be able to go through with this. I wish I was bound so there would be no choice on my part. But that is not what this initiation is about. I must exercise my will.
The paddle is monstrous. It is almost three feet long, a foot wide, and a solid half-inch thick. It is very heavy. Even with two hands you are waving it awkwardly, taking practice swings like a baseball player. I cannot imagine how bad this is going to be.
Then you are there, behind me. I feel your hand on the back of my neck, caressing me lightly. It's just a slight touch but it sends electricity through like fire through a fuse. Instantly my body is alive with feeling, especially between my legs: I am damp and dripping. I feel hot and afraid, excited and aroused. I am sweating, my forehead and shoulders wet with perspiration.
Your lips press against my cheek from behind. It's a quick kiss and a gentle whisper of encouragement. I do not understand what you said, but it does not matter--my heart is quieted and I feel my resolve strengthening. Because it is you punishing me, my love, I think I can handle this.
You step back and I feel the crowd tensing with anticipation. My eyes are closed, the heat around me a red haze on the back of my eyelids. My hands are on my knees as I bend slightly forward, my buttocks arching outward towards your paddle. I force myself to relax and try to breathe normally.
"This will not be as bad as you think," I tell myself, but I am not much convinced. I think of the thick cardboard pieces I have placed in the back pockets of my jeans, but in my soul I know they will help little against the heavy paddle. I give a deep sigh. I know what you are waiting for.
"Please begin," I say loudly. "I am ready to receive my punishment."
There is no hesitation, no delay. My ass just explodes. Faintly I hear the bomb go off in the distance, the crowd cheering wildly. I am nearly knocked off my feet and I struggle to return to position and keep my cool. My buttocks burn lightly, a good warm feeling.
"That was one. Please give me another," I say. Again you comply without hesitation. It catches me by surprise it comes so quickly, so eagerly. My legs are wide apart but it does no good--the blow knocks me forward and I take a step. I am amazed at the noise of the blows. I think the noise frightens me more than the pain.
"Two. Please give me another." The paddle slams into me again. I grit my teeth to bear the swelling pain in my ass. These first few feel good, but I am beginning to detect real pain in the spanks. I know that it will get worse. Soon I will not be able to keep from crying. Already my eyes sting.
I hunch back over and ask for the fourth, then the fifth, and the sixth. By now I am sweating deeply, my hands trembling as I place them on my knees and bend forward. Such a simple act is actually difficult for me now--I feel an urge inside to hesitate, to disobey. My bottom burns with a deep, heavy pain and it wants no more.
But I obey. Again and again you punish me, the paddle spanking me harder and harder. Sometimes it takes me half a minute after the blow to remember to breathe again. My ass feels raw and rough as I wiggle in my jeans. I wish now I had used pieces of metal in my pockets instead of flimsy cardboard--this hurts just as much as any bare bottomed spanking I have received.
"Fifteen!" I gasp. "P-please give me another!" In less time than it took me to ask, and with far less struggle, you whack me again. I'd swear the blows were getting harder, though surely you must me getting tired. I know you are strong--I've felt your hand many times--but even you cannot swing that demon-paddle much longer.
"Sixteen--please give me another!" Tears pour down my cheeks and splash into the dirt. There's a damp mud puddle beneath my face--I have been crying a great deal. I cannot help but cry. It is not so much the pain but the struggle. I have to work to accept each blow, count and ask for it, bend over and get in position to receive it. It is difficult, fiercely difficult, and with practice it grows harder, not easier. I weep in self-pity.
"Twenty!" I pause, hopping that is enough, but there is only silence from you. Surely there cannot be more. I feel as if I am to explode. "Please," I moan, begging, hoping you'll catch the true meaning of my request: "Please let me have another."
Again and again the paddle slams into me. A numbness has settled across my lower half. I feel the force of the blow but not the sting. My ass has settled into a dull burn, an enormous heat that craves caressing. I can only wiggle and bend over for more punishment. I dare not touch myself.
The world around me seems dim and indistinct. I sense heat and noise, and I smell sweat and the odor of animals, but I am only vaguely aware of where I am. My body jerks forward with another blow and a moan passes through me, deep and troubled. My buttocks are swollen and huge, the jeans too tight. Tears drip from my soul.
"Thirty. Another please!" It is a quick cry for mercy, mercy I know better than to expect though I truly desire it. You do not give it to me. Instead you give me pain, glorious wonderful pain, deep body-shattering smacks that threaten my entire concept of reality, heavy punishment that stuns my brain and confuses my heart.
"This is the man I love?" I say to myself. "Why is he doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this? How can he love me? How can I love him?"
It seems so farfetched now, in the middle of this dream. Surely we are not one, we cannot be one, we cannot love each other more than ourselves. How could it be possible to give this pain if that was the case?
And yet I know it is true. Even as I groan and weep from the hard spank I know that you are weeping too, inside, and this pain heals both of us. Its searing heat melts us together, draws us closer, transforms us into a single soul. As we merge my pain becomes yours and yours mine, just as your pleasure becomes mine and mine yours. As one being we orgasm and weep.
"Thirty-six. May-may I please have another?"
It takes me a minute to understand your response. I am standing, bent over, waiting, wondering when the spank will fall. My ass feels crispy and seared. As I slowly rise, confusion on my face mixing with my tears of relief as I realize it is over, I find I can barely walk. Every movement is agony, my buttocks aching and stinging. I can feel the heat radiated from them, glowing. I am certain that my jeans have been worn through. Nothing could have survived such a beating.
There are cheers all around me and friends hugging and kissing me, words of congratulations filling the air. I am stunned, happy and confused, spinning around and weeping. I can barely see, the world is a blurry vision of smiles and dusty heat. I close my eyes. I want to fall down but hands push me up.
Then a strong hand grips me and without opening my eyes I know it is you. With unrelenting strength you pull me to you. I collapse in your arms and weep with relief, with sheer pleasure of being alive and secure, of breathing air and feeling warm and snug.
"Never leave me," I whisper desperately in your ear. "Promise you will always be here."
"I promise," you say, and your lips find mine and it is too much. Your sweet touch pushes me over and I feel my body relax and all the tension leaves me. With bliss I close my eyes and let blackness overtake me. I am happy.