Pan Am

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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.

Pan Am

(****, M/F, Severe, nc spanking, strapping, paddling)

Loosely based on the new Pan Am TV series, this is a discipline spanking story for a stewardess' failings. (Approximately 3,254 words. Originally published 2011-10.)

The pretty blond drew glances as she hurried along the rainy Manhattan streets. Men eyed her both because of her extraordinary beauty, her lithe form shapely even clad neck to ankles in a tan raincoat, but also because her china-doll face was so starkly somber. She appeared troubled, too troubled to even notice the attention she attracted, scarcely noticing as men opened doors for her or stepped out of her way.

She arrived at the modest brownstone without fanfare, trotting the last few blocks in her sharp high heels. She rapped on the tall door and after a moment it opened, a grim dark-haired matron with thick-rimmed glasses and a surly expression glaring at her.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry, I got here as quickly as I could."

Inside, she wrung her hands nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot like a little girl needing to pee. "Please, Miss Haversham, must we do this now? I've got a flight to Paris tomorrow. We could uh, handle this when I get back."

"Absolutely not! I am doing you a generous favor offering you this alternative punishment. Or would you rather I put in a formal reprimand and report?"

Abby hung her head dejectedly. "No Miss. I'll... I'll take my correction."

"Very well. It's going to be a strict dose this time. I was far too lenient with you last time and your faults are many. Hang up your coat and come into the parlor."

The ugly coat removed, the young stewardess was stunning in her tight-fitting blue Pan Am uniform. Five-six in her heels she was nearly three pounds over the Pan Am weight requirement, the bulk of the excess amply situated into the generous rounds of her hips and buttocks and fullsome breasts.

Miss Haversham waited, seated on the davenport. Abby hesitated, then approached and stood trembling next to the woman. She could not take her eyes off the large brown slab of a hairbrush the stern woman gripped in her right hand.

"Unless you want another violation, I suggest you remove your uniform," growled the woman.

Abby wrinkled her nose in distaste, but the command was not unexpected. She quickly stripped off the tight vest and skirt. Clad only in her white slip and underthings, she approached the waiting thighs.

"Come on, over my lap. You know the drill."

"Yes Miss," said Abby, lying down across the woman's legs. Her bottom bloomed behind her, large and plump. It was a bottom that was widely admired and often pinched, patted, or squeezed by male passengers and the occasional pilot. After a long flight, Abby sometimes marveled that her rear wasn't black and blue from all the sharp gooses and little smacks she'd received. Tomorrow's flight to Paris was going to be hell after her session with Haversham.

The woman took a moment to fondle and squeeze those splendid cheeks herself, reveling in the sturdy heft of the meat and the succulent smoothness of the taut flesh. The girl was gorgeous. Not yet twenty, with a face full of naive innocence. She was Miss Haversham from twenty-four years earlier before time and long hours had dulled the woman.

She patted, then spanked, using just her hand initially, slowly warming the stewardess' rump with sound smacks all over the shapely bottom. Abby grunted and winced, wiggling slightly as the warm pain flowed through her backside. The spanks didn't truly hurt yet, but that was coming.

After perhaps five minutes of steady spanking, the hand paused to rub the girl's strong thighs. She was a swimmer, a champion in high school, and her strong youthful flesh was like honey to the older woman.

"Let's get this slip off so I can spank you properly."

Abby groaned, but didn't argue, rising to her feet, and reluctantly but obediently slipping off her slip. She carefully stepped out of it. With only her delicate panties to protect her from the woman's powerful hand, she trembled as she lay back across the thick legs. The spanks now were much harder and faster, and the thin silk of Abby's underwear did nothing to prevent the sting. She was soon wiggling constantly, her body in rippling motion as the hand heated her backside.

It wasn't long before the panties descended. Physically there was little change in the way the spanks felt, but psychologically it was a humiliating blow to the stewardess. She felt ridiculous, a grown woman, lying across a lap in her brassiere with her panties around her knees. Her buttocks were already steaming pink and of course the spanking was only beginning.

When Abby's ass was sufficiently hot, Miss Haversham grabbed the hairbrush and began to paddle the girl with the heavy implement. This was where the true pain began, each cracking blow producing a cry from Abby as well as full-bodied shivers and twists and jerks. Crimson stained the girl's naked buttocks wherever the wooden brush landed. Fiery tingle sizzled through Abby's flesh. She yelped and moaned, then began to sob as her rump darkened with vivid spank marks.

The paddling increased in tempo as the airline official spanked with fury. She held the wriggling form of the girl as still as she could with her left arm and finally threw her right leg around the girl's thrashing limbs, securing the stewardess between her thighs. Then she paddled ruthlessly, ignoring Abby's wails and weeping.

"This is what you need, isn't it?" she crooned. "A nice thorough spanking on your bare bottom. You ought to get a dose like this before every flight! You would if I could have my way. I always say that stewardesses perform their duties better when working with a freshly hot bottom. It's a good reminder to follow the rules and behave, isn't it?"

"Oh please, Miss! I've had enough!"

"Bah! We've hardly started and you know it. Now settle down and take what's coming to you!"

Over the subsequent two minutes at least sixty ear-splitting cracks of the heavy brush echoed throughout the dainty parlor. The spanking was so fierce poor Abby scarcely had time to cry. Her expressions of woe were inarticulate, little more than vague moans and sobs.

Finally the brush stopped spanking. Abby still squirmed as though there was snake inside her. Her hips writhed and her bottoms shook as she fought against the raging heat scorching her buttocks. It was a whole minute before she calmed, Miss Haversham sedately watching with shaking scarlet mounds with what passed as a grin on her stern face.

"All right young lady. Time for the strap."

"Oh no, please! I've had enough. Surely I don't deserve the strap this time, Miss Haversham. You spanked me hard enough already."

"I overlooked two uniform violations this week, you naughty girl. Don't think you're getting out of here without a hard whipping. Now fetch me the strap. And you might as well get rid of the rest of that sorry outfit. _Hurry_!"

A hand smack to her rump sent young Abby scurrying to her feet. The panties dropped to her ankles and she stepped out of them carefully, then let her bra join them. Naked, the lithe nymph hurried to the hall closet where Miss Haversham kept her corrective implements. Abby's face blushed hard when she thought of how she must look, a naked pretty girl with fine butter-colored skin except for a bottom the color of a ripe cherry.

The readers of Life magazine had certainly missed out on this image of her! The whole country had seen the candid of her on the cover, practically the unofficial face of Pan American airlines, and yet no one but Miss Haversham knew how she looked as a penitent well-spanked little girl.

For a split second, Abby's mind filled with an imaginary pictorial inside the magazine. It was herself, naked as the day she was born except for the Pan Am stewardess hat, in various humiliating poses. There she was over Miss Haversham's lap getting spanked. Now she was touching her toes for smacks with the paddle board. Then on this spread were shots of her being whipped with the strap, and over here was a monstrous closeup of her reddened and blistered bottom as she stood in the corner after her punishment.

Abby snatched the heavy leather strap off the wire hanger and brought it to her supervisor, her face a vivid pink from her shameful imaginings.

Then she was stretched across the end of the davenport, the arm making an ideal prop for her rump, thrusting it high for the leather. The belt whistled and a blisteringly sharp sting shot through the girl's ass. She squealed in outrage at the pain. A vivid line of dark scarlet shown across the naked cheeks. Abby sobbed.

The pain repeated, swelled, and grew. Miss Haversham whipped slowly but soundly, making every stroke count. Abby's buttocks throbbed. It was all she could do to not put her hands back to protect her blazing ass, but she knew from experience that would enrage the stern woman. Abby didn't want it worse. She was in enough trouble. So she gritted her teeth and endured it the best she could, crying and wiggling on the arm as her bottom was set on fire.

When the stewardess' rump was the color of a tomato, the woman paused. She studied the quivering cheeks thoughtfully. She reached out and squeezed and prodded and poked, enjoying the feeling of heat radiating from the naked flesh. She liked the way her touch made the girl squirm.

"Are you feeling punished yet?"

"Oh yes, Miss! Absolutely!"

"Learning a lesson?"

"Yes Miss Haversham. Please, no more. I've had enough, surely."

"_I_ will decide when you've had enough, you naughty girl!"

The heavy leather resumed its rise and rapid descent, only this time the motion was repeated quickly, a full dozen strokes landing within a minute. Abby howled. When her sturdy legs kicked and flailed, she was rewarded with stingy swipes to the back of her thighs.

"Oohh! Ouch! Please, Miss Haversham. Not my legs! The marks show."

"So?"

"So the other girls might see!"

"Are you ashamed of being spanked on your naked bottom like a little girl?" sneered the supervisor.

"I'd just die if the others knew."

With a scornful laugh the woman lashed the belt down again, across Abby's legs.

"Oh, not there!" howled Abby.

"I should whip your bottom then?"

"Yes Miss. I mean, no, I'd rather you didn't whip me at all!"

But she was whipped, and whipped soundly. From the top of her ass crevice to the upper slopes of her thighs she was strapped until the skin was scarlet and sore. Miss Haversham flogged until she was panting, and then she threw the leather onto the davenport next to the sprawled stewardess and ordered her to return it to the closet. It was two minutes before Abby moved, groaning. She staggered to her feet and shuffled to the closet.

"Bring back the big board!" called out Miss Haversham.

Abby started to cry. The wooden paddle was huge and heavy. It bore the emblem of a sorority Abby didn't recognize. Was the woman a member? It was hard to imagine Miss Haversham pledging, though Abby would have loved to have seen it.

She herself had attended college for a year before she dropped out when she got the Pan Am job. While at college Abby had rushed and been paddled. It had been a lark. The paddlings had hurt but somehow still been fun. That had been part of what made her agree to Miss Haversham's terms. It hadn't sounded that bad as she remembered the good-natured spankings the sorority girls had endured. But Miss Haversham's paddlings were never fun.

"Please Miss, not too many," Abby begged.

"Your last weight check: how many ounces over the limit were you?"

"Two pounds eleven-- OW!" cried out Abby, the room echoing with the blast of wood against butt. She whimpered, bitting her lower lip.

"I said _ounces_," snapped the woman. "Total ounces. Come on, how many?"

"Uh, sixteen in a pound, right? So that's thirty-two plus... forty-three, Miss."

"Good. Prepare yourself for forty-three smackeroos. Though as a penalty for your slow math skills, let's round it up to an even forty-five."

"Forty-five!" Abby could scarcely breathe. The number was staggering. In college she'd gotten bouts of five and ten, which had been just bearable. Twice Miss Haversham had given her twenty and once twenty-five, but forty-five was a new high. "That's too many!"

"I could make it a round fifty, if you'd rather."

Abby's face fell. She stared at her toes, blushing. "No Miss."

"It's your own fault, dear. You're up seven ounces just this week. You need to lay off the sweets and pasta. If the folks upstairs find out you're over the limit, you'll be out on your ass."

"I'm sorry. But it's so hard. We're always flying to Paris or Rome and there are so many good things to eat I can't help myself."

"Then perhaps this paddling will help you to remember to restrain yourself. Come on, right over now. Legs apart. Don't want you falling over on me. What's the penalty for getting up without permission?"

Abby choked back a sob. "The lick doesn't count and I get two extras."

"That's correct. Now hold on to those ankles, my dear. Keep that lovely bottom pointed toward me."

The woman grinned at the magnificent moons looming before her. Though the cheeks were already stained scarlet, she could hardly wait to paddle them purple. She was going to teach this Life magazine cover girl a serious lesson!

There was a dull whoosh as the heavy board swung through the air. Then Abby's ass exploded with agony. The fierce stinging, as always, took her breath away. It was astonishing, like a half-dozen straps with the leather belt at the same time. It covered her entire rump with throbbing tingle and she shuddered, knowing that was just the first! There were forty-four more to come!

The next quarter of an hour was pure misery for the young stewardess. Miss Haversham varied her pace to keep the pain at its peak, always landing the paddle when Abby least wanted it, just as her body was starting to recover from the previous swat. All of the blows were solid and hurt tremendously, but the woman did occasionally put extra mustard on a shot to drive the lesson home or when she suspected Abby's butt was growing numb. She varied the position of the licks, too, angling the board slightly so she could punish the upper buttock or favor one cheek over the other. But she mostly concentrated on the lower curves, digging the paddle hard into the underbum and lifting Abby to her toes.

The stewardess wept. Her pretty face ran with tears, her mascara streaking and her blush smearing. Her nose dripped. She felt like a soggy mess. And still the board welted her behind, slamming into her with utter ruthlessness. Her bottom glowed reddish purple, then darkened ominously.

"That's forty," grunted Miss Haversham finally. She was breathing hard. "Just five left. Unless you want more."

"No Miss! Please. Just get it over with."

The stewardess supervisor took her time with the final licks, delivering just one per minute, drawing out the girl's suffering. But then it was miraculously over. Abby knelt and kissed the paddle still warm from repeated contact with her own bottom, and thanked Miss Haversham for her correction. She then got to wobbly feet and returned the dreadful board to its home in the closet.

Miss Haversham studied the pitiful thing that returned. Despite her ordeal and ruined makeup, Abby looked hopelessly beautiful. She was one of those genetically gifted girls who look pretty no matter her condition, and her sad teary-eyed state only made her look sweeter and more adorable. Her voluptuous body trembled under the woman's stern glare, the heavy breasts bobbing and bouncing nervously. The trim waist, with only a hint of tummy bulge, and the thick thatch of blond hair between Abby's creamy unmarked thighs annoyed the boss lady. The girl was just too pretty!

"Turn around," she ordered, pleased to see the full buttocks gloriously empurpled. "You should look like this all the time," she gloated.

"Thanks to you I do," muttered Abby.

"What was that? Impertinence? I guess I haven't spanked you enough!" In a flash the woman stepped forward and delivered a sharp slap to each chubby rump mound with her palm.

Abby squealed in protest and shook her head frantically. "I didn't mean it like that! I meant it literally. I'm here almost every week and you leave me so sore it's days before I can sit again."

"Well if you'd get your weight under control and your act together you wouldn't need to be spanked so often. Now get into the corner. Thirty minutes to start and then I'll see how hot your bottom is and decide if we're done."

Obediently Abby got into position at the intersection of two walls, her nude body fully exposed behind. She placed her hands on her head, her red butt receiving two not-so-light pats as Miss Haversham admonished her not to touch her bottom unless she wanted more of the paddle.

Then the woman settled down on the sofa with the newspaper where she could occasionally read but mostly look over the top and admire her brutal handiwork. There was such tremendous satisfaction in taking a young arrogant strumpet like Abby down a few pegs. The girl certainly knew who was boss now. Such pure loveliness. She was even prettier than her sister, who had been Miss Haversham's favorite. Kate's bottom was a little more plump, while Abby's was bigger, but both docile girls took their spankings well. They had been well-trained by their strict mother. Sadly that was more of a rarity these days, as many of Miss Haversham's girls reacted to spanking as though it were something foreign.

She thought of her time in London a number of years back and the long slender ash cane she had in her closet. Was it time to introduce Abby to the delicious agonies of that elegant instrument? Her sister Kate handled it quite well now and could take a sound two dozen without much fuss, even after a proper whipping. But it might be too soon. Perhaps next month, after a few more paddlings to thoroughly season the young lady.

After twenty minutes, Miss Haversham crossed to the buttocks that were her focus and inspected them visually and manually, palpating the abused flesh with cruel glee. Her heart leapt with joy at every gasp or moan from the young woman.

"Still nice and toasty. Another twenty minutes, I think. Then perhaps a quick little hand smacking before you go to ensure you're warm all the way home."

Seated, she smiled wickedly to herself. She had the sneaking suspicion that young Abbigal was going to find that despite her best efforts she'd gained more weight next week! Not too much, just a few ounces. It was trivial for the supervisor to adjust the scale for skewed results. None of the girls had a clue.

The knowledge that each ounce of weight increase would result in additional swats with that sorority board would be pure torment for the girl all week. Miss Haversham could hardly wait. It would give them both something delicious to anticipate!

The End

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