The Old Boys Club

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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.
*** Author's Note ***
This is an unusual story for me. Most of my stories focus strictly on spanking for their eroticism -- I find spanking powerfully erotic and so that's what I write about. When I reread this story, I realized it's unique: I can't think of many of my stories where I write about people being aroused by something other than spanking. Often, when I read other SSS authors, it strikes me that SEX is the focus of their stories while mine are strictly about spanking, with sex as as afterthought. Kinda funny when you think about it!

Anyway, this story breaks the mold a bit for me: it's sexy, but it does have a delicious paddling. Let me know what you think! (Perhaps there could be a sequel?)

Frank
The Flogmaster
***

The Old Boys Club

(*****, MM/F, Severe, bj, semi-con paddling)

A man is given an offer he can't refuse. (Approximately 2,260 words. Originally published 1999-10.)

"Good morning, sir! May I help you?"

The girl was stunningly cute; she couldn't have been more than a few weeks out of high school. She wore a simple country dress that set off her hips and modest chest nicely. She beamed at Roger as though he was the Pope himself, paying her a visit.

"I'm here to see Mr. Vandimer," Roger said.

"Of course, sir. I'll let him know you're here."

Thirty seconds later there was a cry of "Roger!" and Chris Vandimer burst into the lobby. "Good to see you, pal! How was your flight?"

"Fine, fine," laughed Roger. "You're looking well. Splendid setup you've got." He nodded around at the impressive office building.

"Ah, I told you, Chicago's the place for architecture. Terrific city, terrific." He pulled Roger's arm. "Come on into my office. No calls, Maureen."

"Yes, sir," murmured the girl at the desk, her eyes dropping demurely as Roger passed.

"Isn't she a little young for a secretary?" asked Roger when they were safely within Chris' office. He walked to the window and stared out at the magnificent view of the lake.

"Maureen? She's an intern. We've got dozens of 'em. You know, college kids, desperate to get ahead, take any crappy job you've got. It's one of the bennies of working here, pal!"

"Hey!" protested Roger, putting up his hands. "I haven't said yes yet."

"Come on, it'll be great. You still drink scotch?"

"Of course."

"Here you go then." Chris handed the other man a drink, then poured one for himself. "I can't believe this, man. Must be fifteen years since we last worked together. It'll be great having you here."

"I haven't--"

"I know, I know, but you can't blame me for wishing. Bah, what am I talking about? Of course you're gonna work here. Once you see the setup I've got you'll be begging to come on board."

"You know I've got my own firm in Atlanta," said Roger.

"So? We'll merge! You can be the Atlanta branch."

Roger laughed, shaking his head. "It doesn't quite work like that. I've got a partner."

"So? We'll buy him out."

"Her out. And I doubt she's selling."

"Aw, come on," said Chris. "Everyone's got their price. Especially women."

"Well, this one happens to be my wife."

Ten heartbeats passed. Then Chris burst out laughing. "Hot damn! Holy shit, I can't believe you done sewed it on!"

"Yeah, well, the timing was right, and she was right, and... I take it you never--"

Chris almost choked on his drink. "Hell no!" he gasped, wiping his chin. "Don't even suggest that! I've had one or two try to get their claws in me and that was bad enough, but marriage? Marriage and I are polar opposites. Oil and water. East and West. Never the twain shall meet and all that shit."

Roger nodded. "And plenty of cute college interns don't exactly hurt, right?"

"Maureen? Ah, she's a sweetie. Do anything you ask of her, won't bat an eye."

He put down his drink. "Watch this." He pressed a button on his phone. "Maureen, please step in here, dear."

A moment later there was the girl, looking even more dazzling upright and walking around. Sweet air seemed to swirl around her as she walked inside. She blushed slightly at Roger, and looked at the floor.

"Close the door behind you, honey, we've got something serious to discuss."

Maureen obeyed and turned back, her eyes bright with alertness.

"This here's Roger Lemmons, my best friend from college. Now he's just flown in, he's hot and tired and thirsty, and I reckon he hasn't had any good pussy for, what, six or seven hours, at least?"

"Oh, I can take care of that, sir," murmured Maureen, batting her eyes at Roger and calmly lifting the front of her dress. The inverted vee of her legs was exposed to the apex, and there, nestled within the slightest bit of blonde fur, was the sweetest cunt Roger had ever seen. She wore no underwear. He stared and was embarrassed he was staring, but he couldn't look away.

"Ya like that?" roared Chris with belly laugh. "I thought so. Fringe benefits, boy, fringe benefits!"

"Please, Chris," said Roger, shaking his head and trying to look away from the pretty girl who still stood with her legs apart and her dress held up.

"Maureen, dear, why don't you welcome the man properly," said Chris, and the intern leapt into action, gliding forward and sinking to the ground at Roger's feet. "Best you'll get outside of New Orleans," laughed Chris.

Roger couldn't move as the girl reached up to his pants and undid the zipper. He was hard, God he was hard, but he didn't want this. I mean, he _wanted_ it, but he didn't want it.

Then something warm and wonderful engulfed him, and he forgot everything. There was a silky _rightness_ about it that he'd never felt in his entire life. His cock swelled and he heard the girl choke slightly. He stared downward, shocked to discover her mouth swollen with his fullness.

"Oh my God!" he cried, pulling back. But she pursued, leaning forward. Her lips and tongue never stopped working, however, sending shivers through his body like electrical charges. Then it happened. He was spurting. It happened so quickly, like it hadn't happened since high school, and it so startled him that he yanked it out of her mouth and sprayed her face. Blotches of white stained her hair, and a big glob struck her square on her left eyelid.

"Ewwww," she moaned, turning away. Roger gulped and turned the other way, zipping up his shrinking member as fast as he could. When he turned back, Chris was looming over the girl.

"What was that?" he roared. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I'm sorry," moaned the girl. "I'm sorry. I'll get my paddle!" She darted from the room like a firefly, and was back in seconds, slamming the door behind her and running to Chris holding out a small wooden board.

Roger immediately recognized it as a smaller variation of the familiar fraternity paddle. He watched in disbelief as the girl threw herself to the ground, arching her back and thrusting her ass up at Chris. Her dress had fallen over her head leaving the sweet curves of her ass totally bare.

"You wanna do the honors?" asked Chris, and Roger shook his head. He was trying to say "Don't do it!" but his mouth wouldn't work.

BAM! BAM! BAM! Chris walloped the paddle down as hard as he could. With each blow the girl shuddered, her body convulsing wildly. BAM! BAM! BAM!

Roger stepped forward and saw Maureen's ass was bright red. The sight did strange things to him. He had intended to stop Chris, to catch the paddle in mid-blow, but now he stood and watched -- BAM! BAM! BAM! -- as the paddling continued. It was as severe as any frat paddling in his college days, yet Roger had never see a bottom like that being paddled before. He found himself fascinated, watching the cheeks swell and bounce with each blow, the pale flesh turn pink, then magenta. Maureen was an orgy of delicious sounds, groans and grunts and moans that made Roger try to remember the last time he'd made love that sounded like that.

"Here, you give her a few," said Chris, and suddenly Roger was standing there, holding the paddle, and staring down at the crimson haunches of the trembling girl.

"Please, sir, please spank me very hard," moaned Maureen. "I was a very naughty girl to get your come in my hair. Please spank me."

Roger wasn't doing it; it was a creature inside Roger. He watched as the paddle pulled back, then descended, smacking the right cheek with a delicious bounce. Then the left. He loved the sound it made, a wonderful pop-slap, and he quickly delivered another blow to the left, followed by another other to the right.

"That's it, sir," moaned the girl. "Harder, please. I've been VERY naughty."

It was like Roger was in a dream where you can't control your own actions. He spanked the girl. Not just once or twice, and not mildly, but brutally, again and again, until she was begging him for mercy. Finally he stopped and stood there panting, while she collapsed onto the carpet.

He stared downward at her ass from the side, bewildered. The red cheeks reminded him of ruby lips, pursed and full and overly painted with lipstick. He wanted to kiss those lips, get that lipstick all over his body. Thinking it was doing it. The lips were hot, blazing hot, warm and soft and full. He buried himself in them, nuzzling.

It was the laughter that brought him out of it. Slowly he looked up and saw, distorted like in a funny mirror, the tall figure of Chris Vandimer. He shook his head and looked down -- he was lying sprawled across the half-nude form of a young girl, her buttocks red and blistered from what could only be described as a beating.

He leaped to his feet in horror, a strangled cry wrenched from his throat. "Aaahhhh!"

"Enjoyed yourself, eh, Rog?"

"What? No! Absolutely not!" hissed Roger in horror. "What the hell just happened? I--"

Images flooded back and Roger groaned, sinking to the floor and clutching his head. "What did I do, what did I do?" He stared at the still figure beside him. "Did I kill her?"

Chris laughed again, that same loud mocking laugh Roger had always hated. "Of course not, boy! She's just tired. She musta come three times. You gave her quite the thrashing. I'm very impressed."

"No, I didn't, I--" Chris was staring at him, a puzzled look on his face. "I mean, I didn't mean too... I didn't know what I was doing, I was... confused." It all sounded pitifully lame.

"Roger, it's okay. I told you, she's an intern. All our interns are required to accept punishment. It's part of the job."

"THAT'S part of her job?" asked Roger, pointing at the red ass glowing from the floor.

Chris shrugged. "Of course. We've got to keep these smart alec interns in line. Can you think of a better way?"

Roger found a chair and sat, stunned. A better way? His mind wouldn't work. "What about docking their salary?"

"They're interns, moron. They don't get paid. At least not what any rational person would consider pay. Think about it. Spankings are perfect. It's quick, efficient, remarkably effective, there's no permanent record or career damage, and many interns, like dear Maureen here, find it quite, uh, stimulating."

Roger's mouth dropped open. "You mean she LIKES it?"

"Well, like's a pretty strong word. Let's just say the concept excites her, while the implementation can leave her a bit dry. In your case, though, it was more like a flood."

He pointed at the girl's crotch and Roger, after a second guilty hesitation, actually looked and saw the telltale signs of glistening moisture between the girl's legs. He looked harder and saw there was practically a puddle underneath her.

"My God!" he gasped.

"Amazing, isn't it. I've never seen her do that like that before. She must like you."

"It's crazy," muttered Roger. "Crazy."

"Aw, come on, you don't smack your wife on the behind occasionally?"

"Never!"

"Oh, well. Her loss."

Before Roger could respond, the girl moved. She slowly rolled to her side, then gingerly got up. She blinked her pretty eyes at Roger. "Thank you, sir, for punishing me."

"I, uh, look, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what came over me."

"You were very good, sir. Very good."

"Well I didn't mean to be."

"I hope..." Maureen hesitated, glanced at Chris, then turned back to Roger. "I hope we can do this again sometime."

Roger gulped in disbelief. "Again?" he whispered weakly. "Oh my." He shook his head as the girl straightened her dress and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Roger was still blushing after she'd left the room.

"So, Rog, you gonna take the job? You wanna work for your old pal?"

Roger licked his lips. His mouth was completely dry. "I need a drink," he said. "And yes. The answer's yes."

"That's my man! We'll have a drink to celebrate!"

The glasses clinked together and the men drank for several seconds, then Roger paused. "You ever hire any male interns?"

Chris froze. "No, why?"

"I think my wife might like your little discipline idea."

"Ah! She's the type, eh?"

"And how," muttered Roger. Out loud he said, "Maybe it'll loosen her up."

The End

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