SSC: The Bad Dog 07

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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 7

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

A girl is spanked by her neighbor. (Approximately 491 words. Originally published 2000-08.)

That first hairbrushing from Mr. Vidinsky was a breakthrough. We both knew there was no going back. My spankings were no longer mild little hand affairs leaving me with pink skin and a gentle burning. Now they were hard, loud, and incredibly painful. My bottom was left bruised and sore, sometimes blistered.

I loved it. I can't explain why. I didn't question it. I can't explain why I like chocolate ice cream either.

The only drawback to the hairbrush was the severity. While it was engulfing and amazing in its completeness, it meant I needed a week between spankings. Mr. Vidinsky would give me the occasional hand spankings in between hairbrushings, but that was like drinking diet soda: half the calories and half the taste.

The genius came up with a wonderfully devilish compromise. One day he showed up and I followed him. I could tell he was up to something, though I wasn't sure what.

In his study, as he began the hairbrushing, I gradually figured it out. He spanked only my left buttock. For twenty minutes of nearly solid paddling he only spanked the one cheek. My right buttock was smooth, cool, and pale as a full moon. And he ignored it, concentrating on the left.

At first I thought this meant the spanking was only half over and I agonized at how in the world I was going to survive the same again on my right cheek! But he let me go with the right cheek unspanked, a broad wink and a pat letting me know his intentions.

Two days later he was back, and my right buttock received its due.

This became the pattern for several weeks, and I was spanked regularly, every few days. It was the most joyous, most terrifying time of my life. But summer was winding down as we entered August, and I dreaded thinking of school, new faces, and no Mr. Vidinsky.

One day Mr. Vidinsky led me into the study and showed me something new. It was a paddle. It was huge, thick, and heavy. He gave me ten swats bending over in my shorts and I was in agony. It was brutal, nearly knocking me over with each swat, and I loved it. It became a regular addition to our spanking ritual: after every spanking and/or hairbrushing, he'd give me two dice. My roll was how many swats I'd get with the big paddle. It was feverishly exciting. My heart was always in my throat when I rolled, but when the dice landed on a two or three, I'd feel cheated.

Once Mr. Vidinsky gave me a whole day of paddlings. I spent the day helping him in his garden. Every hour or so we'd go inside and I'd roll the dice and take a paddling. Then we'd go back to the garden. My butt was black and blue that night.

The End

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