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 Bad Dog
(*****, M/f, Intense, spanking)
A girl is spanked by her neighbor. (Approximately 490 words. Originally published 2000-08.)
The summer I was fourteen, we moved. Not just across town, but to a completely different state. Physically I was becoming a woman, and I was very interested in boys, but the move put a serious damper on my social activities, especially since school hadn't started yet and I hadn't made any friends. We moved because of my father's work, but since my mother was nurse, she was able to find work easily. This meant I was left home alone, just me and Sambo, my black lab.
One day, a couple weeks after we'd arrived, there was a sharp knock at the door. It was Mr. Vidinsky, our neighbor. He was an older man, a widower, tall and slender, with gray hair and narrow mustache. He reminded me of my mom's favorite actor, David Niven. I think from the first time I'd met him I developed a little crush.
"Is this your dog?" he asked. I saw he had Sambo on a leash.
"Yes sir." I blushed as I spoke. What was wrong with me? I was never so formal. But there was something about Mr. Vidinsky that seemed to demand politeness. I took Sambo off the leash and let him into the house.
"Your parents home?"
I shook my head.
"Then you'd better come with me."
The damage to the flower beds was intense. Sambo had dug up dozens of the man's tulips and petunias; it was a disaster. I apologized, but Mr. Vidinsky was not amused.
"He's your dog, so you are responsible," he said sternly. "Come with me."
I followed him nervously. We went into his house and into a cosy study. Books lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling. The place was impressively chaotic. I felt a bit in awe of this man.
He led me a large stuffed chair, well-worn from years of use. He sat and patted his lap. "I will punish you myself. No point in getting your parents involved."
I nodded, my mouth going dry at the word "punish."
Next thing I knew I was face down across his lap. His big hand palmed my butt for a second, then lifted and smacked down hard. I gulped, but didn't say a word. Again he spanked me, and again.
I was wearing shorts. Skimpy ones, I must admit. They were a year old and my butt had grown out of them. I became painfully aware of every bounce and twitch of my rear end.
I still hadn't spoken, and neither had Mr. Vidinsky. He just spanked and I just lay there. It didn't especially hurt, but I was too astonished to feel much. I just couldn't believe this man, this stranger, was spanking me like a little girl!
Finally it was over. He let me go with a stern reprimand to watch my dog, and I ran home, rubbing my warm bottom.