SSC: The Bad Dog 03

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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 Bad Dog 3

(*****, M/f, Intense, spanking)

A girl is spanked by her neighbor. (Approximately 496 words. Originally published 2000-08.)

I lived in terror the next few days. Every time someone knocked on the front door I froze, certain it was Mr. Vidinsky, come to spank me again. But a week passed with no knock. The amazing thing was that I was disappointed!

I thought constantly about Mr. Vidinsky, and especially about his threat of spanking my bare bottom. Whenever I sat down, I was conscious of how my bottom felt. Whenever I took a shower, I'd palm my tush and imagine it was his big hand. Once I even turned the showerhead to "massage" mode and stood at the far end of the tub, back arched so that the pulsing spray struck my butt. It felt good, but it was too mild. What I wanted was a thorough bottom-warming. Like the kind Mr. Vidinsky gave me!

One afternoon I was out walking Sambo in the woods behind the house when Sambo barked. I turned, and there was Mr. Vidinsky. I went white with despair. I was suddenly frightened, absolutely terrified that my fantasy was about to become reality.

But he was only passing by. He said hello to me, patted Sambo on the head, and went up the path.

My disappointed was so acute I thought my heart would break. I wanted to run after him, to beg him to spank me. I thought about letting Sambo loose in Mr. Vidinsky's flower bed, or even destroying the flowers myself, but that seemed cruel. In the end, I did nothing.

I needn't have worried. That very afternoon, Mr. Vidinsky was back, knocking at my door. One look at his face told me everything. We didn't even bother going to look at the flowers. With bowed head I followed him. My heart was going a mile a minute. I was feverishly excited and yet terrified. This time I knew it would hurt, really hurt, and I was scared.

In his study, Mr. Vidinsky closed the door and sat in the chair. I was wearing jeans, not shorts, and he didn't bother with preliminaries, but immediately began unfastening my pants. They fell to my ankles, giving me a chill that didn't come from the temperature.

To my relief and disappointment, he did not take my panties down: he pulled me over his lap. I felt his palm on my butt and I wondered why I had been looking forward to this moment. Surely I was demented!

"I warned you, Molly," he said, his voice sending lightning up and down my spine.

Then his fingers grasped the waistband of my panties and down they came! As my bare bottom was exposed I wanted to scream. Instead I began to cry.

I cried during the whole spanking, which was a long one, and it hurt. A lot. Strangely, I knew I wasn't crying from the pain. I was crying for some other reason, but I didn't know why until years later.

The End

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