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.
Well, the votes came in and most were in favor of me posting incomplete stories. These, unlike my "fragment" series, I _may_ finish if there is enough interest. Get what you can out of these stories but don't blame me if you are disappointed--they are incomplete, after all. You have been warned! :)
(***, M/F, Intense, n/c paddling, revenge)
A young man builds the perfect device for obtaining revenge against the popular, pretty girl who won't go out with him. (Approximately 2,941 words. Originally published 1996-02.)
Like a snake the young man unlocked the door to the cellar and slipped inside. Locking the door behind him, he descended, flicking on a light switch. Spread out before him was his invention, the project that had taken more than a year of his life.
Made up of a maze of metal bars and gears, the device was basically a large rectangle, about twenty feet long by eight feet wide. The height varied according to its structure, but seemed to peak around ten feet. Most of the internal gears and machinery would eventually be covered, but for now everything was visible through the metal frame.
The south end consisted of a stationery bicycle enclosed into the machine's frame. There was no seat for the bike; apparently the rider was supposed to ride standing. The other end of the machine consisted of what looked like a mattress, but the shape was rather unusual, making an inverted U. It too was enclosed inside the frame, and there appeared to be many leather straps for securing a person onto the bed.
The young man rubbed his hands together gleefully and smiled a devilish smile. His name was Nick Proctor, and as the inventor of the machine, today was his most glorious day. Today was the day the machine would first be tested on someone other than himself. Nick could barely contain his erection just thinking of darling Nicki Sandberg taking a ride on the Spanking Whipping And Thrashing (S.W.A.T.) machine.
He passed his hands over the control panel and grinned impishly. With these buttons he could select the punishment tool: wooden or metal ruler, various leather and rubber straps, three weights of wooden paddles, a leather paddle, two riding crops, and two canes, one thick and one thin. With this dial he could set the frequency of strokes. These two dials allowed him to set the minimum and maximum intensities, and a linked dial controled how much "randomness" the computer would use to increase the intensity. A fifth dial established the duration of the punishment. In addition to these controls, the system allowed itself to be programmed so Nick could set up a whole sequence of various spankings, each of independent lengths and intensities, and each using a different tool. It was Nick's vision made real.
A buzzer sounded on the wall and Nick looked up in surprise. She was early. Excellent. Smiling devilishly he ran up the stairs and unlocked the cellar door. He opened the front door to reveal a very pretty girl, perhaps of about twenty years of age, with lovely dark hair and dark eyes and a smile that revealed perfect teeth. She was wearing a white T-shirt and a simple pair of blue jeans that showed off her remarkable figure.
Nicki Sandberg. Nick could hardly contain himself. His cock was already hard and aching. He'd had a crush on her since Junior High. He couldn't count the fantasies he'd had involving her delectable figure and face.
"Hi, Nick," the girl said with a scowl, slight irritation in her voice. "What's this all about? I'm supposed to meet Greg in twenty minutes."
Nick smiled. She wouldn't be seeing Greg for quiet a while. "Come on in, Nicki, and I'll explain." He opened the door wide and ushered her in amazed at how calm he was. But this was all routine--he'd lived through this a hundred times in his dreams. The only difference was now it was real.
"Have a seat. Would you like a drink?" He closed the front door, secretly locking it, and went over to the bar. He poured two glasses of brandy not even waiting for her answer. She took it rather hesitantly. She looked around nervously.
"Uh, Nick, just what is this all about? I mean, I hardly know you. You say this involves Greg. I don't understand. I don't think he knows you either."
Nick looked at the pretty girl. She was so cute but rather self-centered. She did not really notice other people's feelings. "You didn't tell him, or anyone else that you were coming here?"
"No." Nicki looked really nervous now. The house was a typical suburban home and seemed normal, but she was still nervous. "Your parents here?"
"No, they went to Vegas for a week. Anniversary or something. I never pay much attention."
Nicki nodded, understanding. Parents were best left ignored. She watched as Nick came over next to her by the bar. He was holding a large manilla envelope. "Take a look," he said handing it to her. "But be prepared for a shock."
It was full of photographs, eight-by-ten black and whites. The first was a picture of Greg standing outside a restaurant. He was dressed formally in a suit and tie. The second picture was almost the same but this time there was a woman with him. A blond. She had her arm around him and she was kissing his cheek.
Heart pounding, Nicki flipped through the next few pictures. More of Greg and the blond. Different restaurants, making out in cars, even several pictures of her at Greg's house.
Nicki could feel a dull pain beginning in her stomach. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real. These had to be fake. She glanced up at Nick but he was staring off into the living room. Nicki returned to the pictures, her stomach turning as they became more explicit.
In this one Greg was taking off the girl's dress in his living room, and in the next few she could see they both were striping. It didn't take a detective to tell what for, but in any case, there were pictures to explain it if she didn't know. The last pictures were very grainy ones, apparently shot through the picture window at great distance, and one couldn't see the faces, but the bodies were obviously coupled and naked.
"Shot those with infrared film," whispered Nick. The girl looked at him in shock. He was so close to her--right at her elbow--she felt like moving away but she didn't, not wanting to offend him.
"But why--" the girl whispered.
"He's a prick, Nicki. You deserve better."
Suddenly everything became clear.
"Like you," the girl said with a blunt brutality.
Nick shrugged. "Anyone would be better than Greg. But yes, I had thought of myself. Why not?"
Nicki looked at the young man. He was obviously a geek. She had never really noticed him, though come to think of it, she had known him since high school. Perhaps even earlier than that. He wasn't bad looking, really, just rather thin and studious and no sense of fashion whatsoever. His worn, baggy jeans and tasteless T-shirt did nothing for her.
"I thought so," he whispered, and pulled out another manilla envelope.
Nicki froze when she saw the pictures. The blood drained from her face as she stared at Nick with disgust. "Where did you get these pictures?"
Nick didn't reply but just looked at them. The girl finally looked back. She knew what she'd see so it wasn't a surprise as she flipped through them, but she couldn't believe that anyone had seen her, let alone take photographs.
"You really aren't gay, are you?" Nick asked with scorn.
Nicki felt like she wanted to be sick. Blackmail. That's what he was going to do. She stared at the pictures in horror. They were taken through the window of a dorm room. The lighting was terrible but there were several shots that clearly showed her face and her naked body. No one would question that these weren't real.
It had happened three months ago, she still wasn't quite sure how. She remembered going to a party, being upset that Greg couldn't take her. She'd gotten drunk and returned to her dorm with a group of her drunken friends. They were all cursing guys and pledging never to sleep with them again. "Who need's 'em!" shouted Mary Ann Stevenson, a pretty senior that everyone knew was gay. Somehow--the details from that point on were foggy--she and Mary Ann had ended up sleeping together. Just that one time, and Nicki had felt horrible about it the next day. She made Mary Ann swear to never tell anyone. And until now Nicki thought her secret was safe.
The thought of her parents discovering these pictures chilled her heart. Her father would never forgive her. His campaign for governor would be launched in three weeks and this would put him out of contention. There was no way she could let him see these.
"What do you want?" Her voice was quietly resigned.
She watched with disgust as a grin came over Nick's face. He seemed about to drool with lust and as she glanced down to his privates she wasn't surprised to see that he was erect. Quite erect, by the size of it. There was no question in her mind what he wanted. She just wondered if she could stand giving it to him.
"Come downstairs," he said calmly, leading her away from the bar. She left the pictures on the counter and walked to the cellar door. Opening it, she descended, dreading the perverted love-nest she was certain she'd find below. "Probably has pictures of me covering the walls," she told herself, and somehow that was a comfort to her.
Downstairs she stopped in astonishment when she saw the machine. "What is it?" she asked, for some reason nervous about the answer.
"I built her for you," said Nick proudly, walking past her and caressing the machine. "She's the S.W.A.T. machine. She's designed to improve the character of naughty sluts like yourself."
Nicki stared the boy in astonishment. Suddenly his attitude had changed from a geeky pervert who worshipped the ground she walked on to a geeky pimp who abused her. She wasn't sure she liked the change. She glared at the machine. "I'm supposed to ride it?" she asked in a tired and annoyed voice waving to the bicycle portion of the machine.
"That might be good for a start. Twenty minutes on _that_ exercise bike would do wonders for you. Yeah, let's start with that."
"Then you'll give me the negatives?"
Nick looked at the girl. "Is that all you're worried about? Your boyfriend of a year-and-a-half is sleeping around and all you're concerned about is those people seeing pictures of you sleeping with a girl?"
Nicki didn't say anything. She was trying to forget about Greg and concentrate on hating this geek in front of her.
"How about you go for a ride and I'll let you know when you've earned those pictures. Tell you what, twenty minutes will earn you one negative. I think there are about thirty of them. That should be a good start."
Nicki looked at the bike. She thought of her father's campaign and knew she had no choice. So the perv wanted to watch her exercise, big deal. "There's no seat," she said with a puzzled expression as she tried to get inside.
"Riding standing up."
Nodding, the girl climbed onto the bike. As she placed her hands on the handle bars Nick came forward and secured her wrists to the bars with straps of leather. A wide leather belt was fastened around her narrow waist and two rubber thongs were stretched from the belt to the bars outside the frame of the cage she was inside, pulling her in different directions. She found she couldn't turn or escape. Interesting, she thought, her nervousness growing.
"Start pedaling," said Nick as he sat in a chair to watch her. "You've got twenty minutes. I've set the timer." As he spoke he flipped a switch near him and started a series of video cameras recording. The girl thought he had started a timer. With a sigh, she began to pedal.
Wham! Nicki froze in astonishment, her buttocks tingling. She had just completed three full rotations of the pedals and was starting to think that twenty minutes wouldn't be too hard when the paddle slammed into her ass. She turned her head behind her but all she could see was machinery. Nick was sitting watching her, lust all over his pimply face.
So this was his game. She tried to pedal some more, this time more cautiously. Wham! Another blow. Her bottom was tingling with the aftershocks of the sting. That one had smarted. She pedaled again, faster, and Smack! she received another sharp blow. She stopped and stared at Nick.
"What the hell kind of machine is this?"
"Isn't it obvious? It's a spanking machine. You are a naughty girl. This machine is spanking you. It's quite simple."
"I didn't agree to this. Let me out of here."
Nick shook his head. "I don't think so. You still have a lot of negatives you need to buy from me." Nicki looked thoughtful when he said that. "Come to think of it, you'd better get moving before I start raising my prices. And by the way, the timer doesn't operate unless you are going more than 15 miles per hour. So at this juncture you have done exactly zero seconds towards your twenty minutes."
The girl looked around the room and tugged at her bonds. They were secure. She was trapped. She turned to Nick. "Nick," she said softly in a deep, sultry voice. "I can do other things for you, you know. I could suck your cock. I know you want that. There's no need for me to ride this machine."
The boy smiled at her. "You will have plenty of opportunity to do those things," the boy said calmly. "But they won't count toward your debt. The only thing that counts toward your debt is your time on that machine. So start riding or I'll start sending out copies of those pictures. I think the current governor would be a first choice."
Nicki stared at him with pure hatred. Taking a deep breath she began to pedal. The paddle smacked her rump as she rode but she ignored it. As she picked up speed the blows became more rapid and harder, but she still ignored them, gritting her teeth and pretending it didn't hurt.
It actually didn't hurt that much. She was wearing blue jeans and underwear and the blows weren't that hard. It was more annoying and humiliating than painful, she decided. Her face flushed as she thought of how she must look, a pretty young lady in tight jeans standing and pedaling and getting her bottom spanked while a young brat sat by and watched, his hands touching his crotch every now and then. Nicki gritted her teeth and pedaled on.
After about ten or fifteen minutes of this she grew tired and slowed slightly. The paddle was starting to hurt. Her bottom itched and throbbed slightly, and she wondered if the skin was red. She herself had never gotten spanked before, but her best friend in elementary school, Sally Kilbolt, had gotten a spanking from her mom while Nicki watched. Nicki remembered watching Sally's mom take the girl over her lap and pull down her jeans and panties and slap her bare bottom until it was red as ripe watermelon, Sally screaming and crying frantically the whole time. Nicki had been rather fascinated by it at the time, but Sally had refused to talk about it. They hadn't been friends much after that.
By now Nicki was panting and struggling. Surely twenty minutes had passed. She looked desperately over at Nick. "How much longer?"
"About ten minutes," he said calmly. Nicki let out a groan. Ten minutes! After all this she was only halfway done. How could that be possible? It seemed like hours! "Yeah," Nick added, seeing her puzzlement, "your last few minutes haven't counted--your speed is only ten miles per hour."
Desperately Nicki began to pedal faster, the paddle smacking her more frequently. She ignored it and struggled on pedaling, making sure her speed was over fifteen miles per hour. She saw the gauge on the handle bar in front of her and watched the odometer slowly count off the miles.
Nick watched as the beautiful girl struggled to pedal faster. She was amazingly gorgeous, he thought. His cock twitched with every paddle smack against the girl's round ass--boy, did she have the figure! Her breasts bounced in front of her as she rode and her face looked delightful it was so frightened, but he couldn't take his eyes of her wonderful rump, thrust out behind her for the onswinging paddle, each delicious smack making her cringe and making his cock swell. He'd already come once and felt like he was ready to again.
She was crying now, tears dripping down her cheeks as she struggled to pedal faster than fifteen miles per hour. She looked so sad he almost felt a little sorry for her, but he knew that she was only feeling sorry for herself. When she could cry like that for him, well, that would be a sign that she had actually learned something.
That's as far as I got... :(
Is it worth continuing?