SSC: The Whipping Contest

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

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SSC: The Whipping Contest

(*****, f/m, m/f, Severe, severe whipping)

Two students whip each other. (Approximately 491 words. Originally published 2000-08.)

"I challenge you!" roared the girl. The hall went silent. Ian Perkins froze in mid-walk.

In the twenty years since females had been allowed into Montgomery School, no girl had challenged a boy. But Liz O'Raney wasn't a typical girl. Her flaming red hair matched her temper -- or was it the other way around? -- and among the boys she was as renown for her impressive girlish figure as for her impressive feats on the games ground.

Ian smirked and shook his head as though Liz was but a foolish child. "You're crazy," he said.

So she repeated the challenge. Twice.

A huge crowd had gathered, with more flocking in as the news swept through the school. They held their breath at this new development -- a triple challenge could not to be ignored. If Ian didn't accept, he was announcing to the world he was a coward.

"I accept," said Ian. "But don't expect special treatment because you're a girl."

They met in the gymnasium after lights out. An audience of over a hundred watched, by far the most in school history. Dressed in white sleeping garments, Ian and Liz faced each other. First was the exchange of moons -- not as an insult, but to prove neither wore padding. Then the whipping contest began.

In principle, a whipping contest is a simple affair. The two embrace each other with one arm around the other's shoulder. With the free arm gripping a stout leather strap, the object is to thrash the opponent's buttocks and legs until he (or she) gives in by breaking off combat. With both flailing simultaneously, the contest makes a wild dance.

In practice, a whipping contest is anything but simple. There's a complex psychological art to the sequence of blows. You daren't wince and reveal a stroke hurt you -- yet you must deduce which of your blows do the most damage to the opponent. There's a great deal of running and twirling, but you mustn't break contact, for that's a forfeit. The contest is a mixture of bravado, bravery, and brutality.

In the school's history, eleven matches had been fought between girls, but never had there been a boy-girl match. This one was destined a legend before first crack of leather. The two circled and struck. There were misses. There were heavy hits. There were grunts and groans.

But neither the big male or the slender female would give in. On and on went the contest, both players drenched with sweat, the gymnasium echoing with leather smacks. Leaden arms could barely swing the straps, but still the two battled.

Finally they slowed and simply hung there, embracing, too exhausted to whip.

"A draw?" asked Ian.

"If you'll apologize."

"I will."

"A draw, then."

And so it finished, amongst much applause, with both contestants rather worse for the wear.

"Next time," said Liz with a conspiratorial wink, "ASK before pinching my bum."

The End