SSC: The Intervention

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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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SSC: The Intervention

(*****, M/F, Intense, paddling)

A bitch gets hers. (Approximately 480 words. Originally published 2000-06.)

"Stop! Stop!" cried Angela. She pounded on the partition. The taxi screeched and halted, the driver cursing incomprehensibly.

"Fucking idiot!" shouted Angela. "I told you the fifth brownstone on the right! Now I've got walk a block."

The driver spat. "You say hurry, fast, fast!"

The woman looked at the meter. "I'm not paying a dime more than six," she said, ignoring the reading. "It's never more than six."

"Bitch!"

"Asshole!" Angela slammed the taxi door.

The driver cursed, but couldn't resist watching the broad's ass bouncing in his rearview mirror.

Reaching her door, Angela felt a chill. It was unlocked! It had to be Robert, her ex-husband. The bastard was back after she kicked him out! Unless it was Enrique, her new boyfriend. She couldn't remember if she'd given him a key. At any right, neither had the right to enter unannounced.

She kicked the door open, furious at the intrusion. She froze. The room was filled with people. Her eyes traveled, noting colleagues from work, her brother and sister, Robert, numerous friends and semi-friends, old boyfriends, even Enrique.

Her first thought was it was surprise party. Even though her big 30 wasn't for four months yet, she thought about it constantly. But everyone looked grim, and no one had shouted "Surprise!"

She glared at her sister, Ariel. "What the fuck's going on?"

"This is an intervention."

Angela laughed. "I'm not a fucking drunk."

"This isn't that kind of intervention," said Abel, her big brother. He frowned. "Your friends are here because they are concerned about you. About your attitude."

There were nods of agreement.

"Everyone here's been fucked by you," continued Abel. "Most literally, and all figuratively. We figure if something doesn't change soon, you'll end up in a gutter with your throat slit."

Angela's mouth hung open. "You've got to be kidding!"

"You're a bitch, Angela," added Ariel. "Everyone is sick of it."

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

"Not yet." Abel gestured and Enrique stepped behind Angela and slammed the deadbolt home. "First we're going to teach you a lesson."

"A lesson in manners," said Robert.

Angela's mouth went dry. He was holding her sorority paddle. The sweet memory of that hefty instrument in her hands, slamming it into the pink mounds of a pretty naked pledge, sobbing and begging for mercy, was still fresh.

Only now, Robert held the paddle. She gulped. "Hey come on," she began, stepping back. She bumped into Enrique, who pinned her arms behind her back.

"We're all taking turns," smiled Robert grimly.

Around the room, eyes were cold in agreement.

"No! You can't!"

"Strip the slut," ordered Ariel, grinning.

Spitting with rage, the nude Angela was forced across a sofa arm, naked ass high. Four men held her down.

Abel stepped behind Robert. "I'm next."

Angela shuddered. The line went on forever.

The End

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