Incident at Fourth and Gresham

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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.

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Incident at Fourth and Gresham

(*, M/F, Severe, s&m)

An undercover officer goes all the way to do her duty. (Approximately 1,161 words. Originally published 1995-10.)

We'd gotten word in July of a possible terrorist attack in the New York City area, specifically an incident involving the subway system. Local law inforcement was put on alert and I was sent in to discover the group and infiltrate if possible.

I went in on Friday, August 4, under the name Cassandra Davidson. I had a lead, one Michael Wilson, a former subway worker with a grievance against the city. There was a possibility he was working with the terrorists.

Wilson turned out to be a sick bastard, a drunkard and a nobody, but he did have connections. He was a short, paunchy man of about thirty, balding slightly, with an arrogant attitude. I let him pick me up at a local bar.

"You look lonely," he said to me as he attempted to perch his squat frame on the stool next to me. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"I don't know, can you?" I said dryly, pretending to apraise him with my eyes.

That threw him for a moment, he was so stupid. "You bet I can, baby. I could buy you the whole bar if I wanted."

I gave him another sarcastic look like "Yeah, I believe that one."

"It's the truth, hon," he hissed at me. "My ship just came in and it's loaded." He pulled out a wad of twenties. "Plenty more where those came from, and more come next week. I gotta job that pays real good."

"Well you should use it to buy some decent clothes," I mumbled, pretending to ignore him. The bartender brought me another and Wilson paid for it. I sipped it slowly. No sense in him getting me drunk. He wasn't worth it.

We went to his place, a low-rent flat in classless suburb. A classless place for a classless guy, I thought, laughing at a another stupid comment of his as though it was really funny.

He locked the door after me, an arrogant action that irritated me. I wanted to bring him down a peg or two, but I needed him to like me. Antagonizing him wouldn't do that.

I wandered around his apartment. It was filthy and dingy, the kitchen tiny and looking like it had never been used. The fridge contained only beer and few greasy boxes of chinese food, leftover who knew how many days or months.

The bedroom gave me the creeps. A giant poster covered one wall, a woman in leather spanking a half-naked woman bent across her lap, the latter's bottom blotched with red, her face teary but smiling.

"Great," I thought. "An s&m freak. This ought to be fun." I really wasn't that worried. s&m tended to be more show than real—I'd tried it a few times during my Berkeley days.

"I see what you're into," I said with what I hoped was an aroused grin.

"Does it frighten you?" Wilson asked, his hand sliding down my back and pinching my bottom. He pinched me rather hard and I knew then which side he liked to play.

I turned and kissed him, casually hoping that would be enough to throw him off, but he wasn't interested. "Come on, honey, ever been tied up?"

I shook my head and feigned fear. "Oh, I could never do that." Three minutes later I was bound face down on the bed, my clothes in a heap in the corner. His rope skills were ludicrous; I could have freed myself in seconds, but I struggled vainly and wiggled my rump in a fashion I knew would turn him on.

He immediately was caressing my ass, patting me and telling me how "babelicious" I was. "You're a real fox, baby, a real fox. You've got a great ass. Nice and round with some meat on it," he laughed, giving my rump a hard slap. "I like a girl's ass I can grab. Those modern girls are too thin, their asses bony, not firm. Tits are all nipples too," he whispered in my ear as he laid across me, his hands reaching under me and grabbing my breasts in his meaty paws.

"Oh, you're hurting me," I said, which turned him on even more. Though I do enjoy occasionally sex games, this was work, and I needed to get moving. I hoped he'd just have sex and get it over with, but a secret part of me, I must admit, was intrigued by his promise of sexual pain.

Unfortunately for my tender behind, he granted me my wish. After pawing me real good he brought out a leather belt and proceeded to spank me with it. It was a good spanking, I must admit, hard and thorough, but not being especially aroused by his meaty carcass I wasn't really in the mood, which made it rather painful.

I thought he was finished after the belt, but he had only begun. The paddle was next, a thin wooden one that really smarted. The blows were noisy and rough and I wondered what his neighbors would think, but then I remembered the kinds of neighbors he was likely to have wouldn't be bothered by gunshots.

I tried my best to give him what he wanted, groaning loudly and whimpering frequently, arching my back and raising my buttocks to receive the blows. But it seemed Wilson wasn't as much interested in my submission as much as simply giving me a great deal of pain.

He paddled me mercilessly, really hard, and soon my groans were real and my writhing was real. I suddenly realized we'd long since outgrown the mild spankings I'd received in college, even that devilish paddling from Sarah Little when I'd joined my sorority.

"Hey, please, knock it off, Michael! That's really hurting1"

"Baby, take it easy. It's nothing permanent. Besides, you need the pain, you deserve it."

"No I don't, please, that's enough," I begged, really serious now. The game had taken a new and painful turn.

He laughed and it sent chills down my spine.

It was going to be a long night.

We had sex later, and it wasn't bad. I wasn't particularly interested in him, but the paddling had so aroused me I was desperate for anything to distract me from the pain. I made love to him passionately and more fiercely than I have many other, much more attractive men.

He spanked me a number of times during the night and by morning I was exhausted, my bottom raw and sore even when he wasn't paddling me. Near morning, however, I managed to get him drunk enough and aroused enough to tell me what I needed to know. My superiors (God, I hate that expression) were able to use the info to stop the terrorists, so I'd saved the day. Hooray. I just went home to soak my butt. As I knelt in the shower I vowed never to take s&m so lightly again.

The End

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