Fantasy 014: Gloria

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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

Fantasy014: Gloria

(****, MMM/F, Intense, paddling, domination)

A husband takes his wife to a 'discipline house' for a refresher course in wifely obedience. (Approximately 3,243 words. Originally published 1996-06.)

"I think this is the place," you say quietly. Chills go up my spine. I stare straight ahead, refusing to look. I cannot bear think what a horrible place this must be.

I feel the car turn, and soon I am greeted with the sight of a long driveway flanked by fenced-in fields. The setting is quiet and remote; a ranch or a small farm. At the end of the driveway there are a group of buildings, modern and clean. I see people walking about. They ignore us, concentrating on chores or whatever activities they are engaged in. As you park, I find that I am very nervous and my hands tremble.

"A-are you s-sure we have to do t-this?" I say, and the serious look in your eyes answers my question. "What will they do to me?"

"They will teach you to behave."

I want to say, "But I know how to behave!" but deep inside I know that it isn't true--I have a long history of being unable to control my emotions and my actions. I know that it's not that I'm a mean person, it's just that I act without thinking. So I remain silent, wondering if this "cure" will really work, if it is what I need.

You have stopped the car and turned off the engine now. I sit very still and try not to even breathe. I do not like this place. I am afraid. "Get out of the car," you say.

I refuse to look at you though I really want to--I am afraid of what I will do if I see your face. I want to plead and beg with you, to make you feel like a horrible person for sending me to this place, to get angry and curse you. But something inside me knows that that is going too far--if I do those things you will be disappointed in me, and even worse, I will hate myself.

I get out of the car.

We walk toward the main building, a low-lying home next to a large well-kept garden. I can see lots of wonderful vegetables growing--corn, tomatoes, peas, green beans, onions, carrots, and others. For some reason this comforts me. The place cannot be all bad if the owners know how to garden.

Inside we are greeted by three men. You move ahead of me and speak briefly with them. I stay back, near the door, and watch sullenly. I can see the men watching me. I do not acknowledge them but stare out the window.

Finally you leave the men and come to me. "Everything is okay," you say. I cannot help but look at you with pleading eyes, but yours are cold and hard. "Do not make me angry," you whisper. "You know why you are here and why you deserve this. I shall return when you are cured. How long that takes is completely up to you."

"Please," I say, but with a quick, deep kiss you silence me. Then you are gone, my lips still moist with your touch. I hear the car engine roar to life and I desperately want to run to catch up with you. The engine grows fainter and fainter. You are gone. I am alone.

One of the men steps forward. "Please, Gloria, come with us. We must begin with your 'introduction'." I turn and look at the man. He is obviously the leader, perhaps the owner. His face is intelligent and kind, but there's a hardness about him that chills my soul.

We are in a living room, I realize for the first time. It is tastefully decorated in a "country living" style. Suddenly I do not want to leave. But the two men with the master (I cannot help but think him that--not necessarily master of me, but master of the place) come to either side of me. It is obvious they will carry me if I do not cooperate, so I stick my nose into the air and smugly follow the leader.

We are in a long corridor. We go to a room at the end. Inside, it is bare except for a few pieces of furniture. There is some sort of leather-covered sawhorse in the center of the room, and a few simple wooden chairs with no arms. There's a small wooden table in the far corner, and I shudder when I see that on the table are a number of discipline implements: paddles and whips and other things I cannot identify.

"This first spanking shall not be very severe," says the leader. "Just a routine paddling to introduce you to our home and let you know what you can expect if you disobey. We shall also teach you the house rules." He points to the sawhorse thing and says, "Please take off your jeans and panties and bend over the punishment horse."

Fear grips my heart. I cannot move for a second. This man is insane. How can he talk so calmly of whipping me? I do not wish to be punished. I have not done anything wrong, not really. I shake my head violently, stubbornly.

The leader smiles at me, gentle but a bit condescendingly. I am surprised to realize he is very handsome, rather sexy in fact. "Listen to me, Gloria," he says calmly. "This week of training you have signed up for is only a week _if_ you cooperate. Each stage of your training must be willingly accepted by you--nothing can be learned without your consent and cooperation. If you have to remain here for a month or even a year to pass the tests, you will. Your husband has given us full authority to do what we need to do. But you will not leave until you have passed all the tests. Do you understand me?"

I nod, slowly. My mouth is dry and my body hot. For a reason unknown my sex is damp and aroused--perhaps it is this man's commanding tone, or his charismatic presence. I feel guilt as I wonder what kind of a lover he'd be.

"Please, Gloria, will you cooperate? Take off your jeans and panties and go to the punishment horse."

Immediately I shake my head. I cannot help it. I have no clear idea why I refuse--surely it can only make things worse--but I cannot bear to simply _let_ this man hurt me. The man raises his eyebrows and gestures. The two goons on either side of me suddenly are dragging me forward. I begin to struggle but the men are very strong. One holds my arms and the other man begins to open and remove my jeans. I kick at him but he only uses the opportunity to remove my shoes, and my kicking aids my jeans falling to my ankles. He pulls them off very roughly.

Squealing and yelling, I am thrust over the punishment horse. The leather is soft and actually comfortable, but my position is not. I am nearly upside down I am bent over so far. A wide leather belt is passed around the small of my back and pulled tight, holding me in place. I thrash around, but I go nowhere. Fingers grasp the elastic band of my panties and I gasp as my bottom is bared. Tears sting my eyes at the humiliation. They can see everything. I am naked before strangers!

Strong hands grip my thighs and my exposed sex surges in anticipation. Surely they wouldn't--and yet it would be easy for them, wouldn't it? But the hands do not violate me, as much as I begin to think I would like them to do. Instead I feel more leather belts strapping my legs in position. I am helpless now, barely able to wiggle. I expect they will bind my hands but they do not. For a few moments I thrash as best I'm able, throwing my arms all about, but soon I am exhausted. I lay still, panting and occasionally cursing the men.

I look up and see the leader standing in front of me. He is holding a long back paddle. It looks like it is made of stiff leather. I shudder as he kneels before me. Waves of electricity pass through my body. I am turned on and unbelievably wet. I cannot stand this. "I am going to punish you now," he says, and his words are like a flick to my clit.

"No!" I scream into his face. "You cannot. You told me I had to agree!"

"This isn't a test, Gloria--this is punishment. You will indeed have to accept each test willingly (and you will), but this is simply punishment for your disobedience. And while your introduction would have been mild had you cooperated, this spanking will be severe."

He moves behind me, then, and I begin to thrash and strike out at him. It is useless, of course. I can barely move. My buttocks are open and vulnerable and that terrifies me. I have no control over this. I am helpless.

WHACK! The paddle wallops my buttcheeks with a loud slapping sound. Tears spring to my eyes and terror grips my soul--that seriously hurt! Again it slaps me, and then again. By the fourth or fifth blow I am crying, and by the tenth I am repentant. I've never felt anything like this in my life. My entire ass is burning and the paddling shows no sign of stopping. We pass fifteen, then twenty. My shrieks must be annoying the neighbors.

The man is smart. He pauses now, letting me struggle uselessly and waste energy. I am sobbing, my world a watery blur. I know the two men are watching me and that bothers me more than the leader seeing me--he I am beginning to accept. The other two I do not know. They are irrelevant to me. I do not want them here, watching me, gloating over my pain. It is not proper for them to see me this low, this humiliated.

But now the spanking continues, loud slaps, each stroke about 8-15 seconds apart, just enough time for me to stop screaming and catch my breath before the next one slams into me. Then he begins to talk to me. At first, I hear nothing, I care about nothing except stopping the pain. Then his words begin to make sense to me, and I begin to listen.

"Would you like me to stop this spanking, Gloria? Stop the pain? I can, you know. One word from you and I will call your husband and send you home. I will tell him you failed, that you are not strong enough for this program, that you do not love him enough to become a better person for him. Just one word, Gloria, and I will stop. Won't you say it, Gloria? Just say it, and I'll stop. Your husband won't be happy with you, but what does that matter. Your marriage is probably doomed anyway. Come on, girl, just say the word and I'll call him."

Wild emotions flood through me during this speech. My body is racked with pain and it is difficult for me to concentrate and think, but the man's words infuriate me. How dare he say I did not love you! What does he know about our relationship? He knows nothing! Moaning, I grit my teeth and resolve to let him spank me all night if that's what it takes. There was no way he was going to get me to quit the program--I love you far too much to do that.

As the paddle continues to spank my ass--I've long since lost count--I cannot help but plead with the man. "Please, sir, I'll obey. That's enough. Don't call my husband. I want to stay. I _will_ stay. I'll cooperate. Please!"

I begin to sob with relief as the leader stops spanking me. He crosses to the table and puts the paddle down. I am so relieved! Despite all my pain I am still wet between my legs and I almost positive the men can see me dripping.

"Good," says the man. "I am glad you want to stay. That is a good start."

"Thank you," I say. My face is damp with my tears and my bottom burns but I am happy. The leader is pleased and that makes me feel good inside. I do not know why but I want to make him happy.

"Now you must be punished for disobedience."

"What!"

The man approaches, two objects in his hand. He passes to my left and hands the objects to the two men. In a blur I see that he has given them each a large wooden hairbrush. "Noooo!" I moan desperately. "Please, I've had enough."

"You must be punished for your disobedience. This will hurt, I'm afraid, but that's what you get for disobeying."

There is nothing I can do. He will send me home if I protest too much, and I cannot have that. You would never forgive me. I must do my best to accept this, though my bottom is so sore I do not know how I can endure more. Especially coming from the two morons. If it was from the handsome man perhaps I could bear it.

The spanking begins and it is brutal. The two men align on either side of me and spank me in unison, each focusing on one cheek. The spanks are hard and fast, in sets of 10 to 15 swats, and right at the base of my bottom where the cheeks meet the thigh. I howl and kick feebly and thrash my arms but it does no good. Each set leaves me breathless and panting, too tired to cry. I can only moan and feel sorry for myself. Then the cycle resumes with a fresh set, and I'm screaming and begging for the pain to stop. The worst is that the leader is now in front of me, watching me, his cold eyes staring without blinking, without emotion. It's disconcerting and frightening. It makes me think of the unsatisfied burning between my legs and that fills me with feelings of guilt.

Finally it is over. I am unbound and lifted to my feet. My nudity is forgotten now as I try to stand on trembling legs. A woman has appeared at the door. I stare at her in amazement--I had forgotten there were others here. They had to have heard my screams. How embarrassing. I was weeping and carrying on like a child.

The woman takes me in her arms and dries my face with her apron. She is large and warm and very kind. She takes me into a snug little kitchen smelling of baking and fresh food and gives me a warm chocolate chip cookie and a tall glass of cold milk. The food is wonderful, indescribably delicious, and I begin to cry I am so happy.

The woman smiles at me. "It is good, yes?" she says, her voice filled with a strong foreign accent. I nod, still reeling from my emotional ride. "Have another," she says, placing another cookie on my plate. "And then to bed. You have an early day tomorrow."

The bed is somewhere in the house, warm and large. It reminds of a large swimming pool filled with pillows. I throw myself inside the soft covers and I'm asleep in minutes.

Sunlight wakes me. I hear sounds outside and for a moment I'm unsure where I am. When I move pain washes through me and I remember the events of yesterday. Tears come to my eyes when I think of how I behaved and how I was treated. Then I think of the kind woman and the strange coldness of the tall man. I go to the window and look outside. It is morning. The farm is active already. People are working.

A sound behind me causes me to turn. It's the woman. She smiles at me. "Come," she says, and I follow. She leads me to a bathroom, where I take off the rest of my clothes (I was still wearing my bra and blouse from the day before). Here I relieve myself and climb into the warm shower and she helps wash me. It is strange--no woman has ever done that for me before, yet it feels natural. When I am clean, the woman taking especial care with my bruised buttocks and thighs, the woman dries me with a rough towel and gives me a soft terrycloth robe to put on.

"You are hungry?" she says. I nod. I am famished. "After," she says with a soft smile. I do not know what she means. I follow her. We do not go to the bedroom where I slept but instead go into a room I instantly recognize as the room where I was spanked last night.

"Hey," I say, but the woman is gone. I am alone in the room. Strangely, I do not leave. Somehow I know I am supposed to be here, and I have no doubt why. My bottom is very sore. I do not want more punishment. It hurts just to walk. But just being in this room excites me, frightens me.

Then the tall leader enters. He is smiling broadly at me, his face sharp and alert, his eyes bright and twinkling. "Sleep well?" he asks, walking directly to the table and picking up the black paddle. I nod, my heart trembling. I cannot take my eyes off the paddle as he walks around in front of me. His two friends are not around, but I have not doubt he can call them if he needs them.

"So, shall we dispense with your 'introduction'?" he says calmly. Pacing as he talks, he continues. "This first spanking shall not be very severe. Just a routine paddling to introduce you to our home and let you know what you can expect if you disobey. We shall also teach you the house rules." He points to the sawhorse thing and says,"Please undress and bend over the punishment horse."

It is like a dream. For a moment it is yesterday, the same room, the same situation, the same question. For a moment I am overwhelmed by the feeling. Then I begin to focus and I realize it is not the same. This time I will be completely naked, and this time my bottom is already sore and hot and the "mild" intro spanking will hurt unbearably. And this time I am a different person, a person who loves you so much she is willing to do whatever it takes to earn your love and respect.

I smile shyly at the tall man and carefully disrobe. Naked, my buttocks sore and bruised (and I'm sure a real sight), I walk across the room. I bend over the punishment horse, discovering this time a bar I can grip with my hands to hold myself in position. Already I know that the restraints will not be necessary. It is going to hurt, but I am learning valuable lessons. I will cooperate. I will cooperate because I love you.

The End

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