SSC: Mindy 4: Decision

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

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SSC: Mindy 4: Decision

(*****, M/f, Severe, Schoolgirl birching)

A beautiful girl is birched. (Approximately 504 words. Originally published 1998-07.)

It was now or never. Today was the last day of school.

Mindy's hand drifted to caress her bottom. Twelve of the best. Sadly, the headmaster hadn't kept his promise of a birching. Mindy had been so good last month he hadn't the heart to birch her just before end of term.

Mindy made her decision. Twenty minutes later she stood before a raging Mr. Fessler. He couldn't believe she'd cheated on her final.

Slowly Mindy undressed, weals tingling as she pulled off her knickers. Naked, she went to the corner. Mr. Fessler had gone to cut birch from the grove behind the school.

Waiting grew ominous. Nervously, Mindy fondled her breasts. She squeezed them until the nipples felt ready to burst. Then she slipped a hand to her pussy, massaging and rubbing capriciously, glancing over her shoulder.

She heard the footsteps a scant second before the door opened. She stood in position, heart pounding. She smelled of arousal and her hand was damp.

A bucket was placed near her. In the liquid stood a long bundle of birch rods, bound together with twine. Mindy felt a quiver pass through her belly.

After thirty minutes of silence Mr. Fessler spoke: "Alright."

Mindy quickly went to the desk.

"No. Over the chair."

Wondering at this innovation, Mindy obediently draped herself over the chair back, gripping the armrests. Her legs dangled uselessly.

Mindy heard the rods dripping as Mr. Fessler shook off the brine. Then came the pain. It flooded her body in incredible, unspeakable waves. It was like a dozen canes at once. It was mysterious, bold, new, exciting. The heat in her sex faded and rose like a fire in a stiff wind. Occasionally blinding, then shrinking to a spark.

From the first blow, Mindy knew the cane had lost its favored position in her heart. The birch met a deep, unspoken need. The pain was so raw, undiluted, unpredictable--it was the opposite of the formal, fastidious cane. The birch was a weapon to make one dance!

And dance Mindy did. She couldn't help herself. As Mr. Fessler slowly painted her buttocks and thighs with a myriad of tiny red blotches she wiggled and writhed and bounced on the chair, losing all control and howling like a madwoman.

He left her raw, seemingly stripped of flesh from the top of her bottom to the back of her knees. Mindy had never felt so engulfed with feeling.

The only thing she regreted about the birching was that like most punishments, it left the rest of her body bereft of pain. She longed for Mr. Fessler to turn her over and flog her naked breasts, whip her belly, the insides of her thighs, and yes, even her sex. She wanted him to thrash her bodily while she screamed in joyous agony.

"Mindy," he said as she turned away. She hesitated, clutching her clothes to her naked front.

"I think next year... only the birch."

Mindy could only hope.

The End