SSC: The Pain

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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 Pain

(*****, M/F, Intense, hand spanking)

A man spanks his wife. (Approximately 504 words. Originally published 2000-08.)

[My take on _The Sixth Sense_ (so to speak ;-). -- Frank]

Oh God, it was happening. It was now. Time for the spanking.

He loved this moment. It was before the pain, before anything had started, and he could savor the anticipation of the spanking to come.

Today the spanking would be severe. It would be long, very long, for this was to be a punishment spanking. Halfway through he knew he'd be praying for it to end, but somehow, out of love for her, he must make it through. She'd never forgive him if he didn't make it through.

He watched her enter the room, lithe and graceful, so beautiful it hurt him to think about it. She wore simple clothes, ordinary casual things that on her looked as elegant as a costume. The jeans were faded and worn, especially around the seat. They weren't tight, but comfortable. She was relaxed, having fun. That made her look sexier than Spandex shorts.

She was so beautiful he wanted to stare at her forever. But that wasn't to be, because it was spanking time. He had a duty to her. Almost reluctantly, he got in position for the spanking.

The first few swats weren't painful at all. They felt good, in fact. Warmth flooded through him. It was wonderful to be alive, wonderful to feel such a connection between man and woman, wonderful to just be in the presence of such a sexy creature.

But as the spanking continued, it began to hurt. It was a mild pain at first. So mild he ignored easily, pretending it didn't hurt, concentrating on the good feelings flooding his body. His crotch was alive with passion, his heart pounding. He could feel her body against him, and she too was alive. He could smell her arousal. She was enjoying this as much as him.

It was time for the clothes to come off. There were no protests, no pleas for mercy. There was only obedience and cooperation. The two had been through this too many times before and knew the consequences of disobedience.

When the spanking resumed, it was with renewed vigor and enthusiasm. The spanks were hard and fast, and he gritted his teeth and ignored the beginnings of real pain. Heat and warm increased, and he vaguely sensed a throbbing. The skin was swelling, growing raw. It hurt, every spank hurt. He could no longer ignore it. He wanted to cry out, but he must be tough, mustn't let it show.

On and on he continued, doggedly, willing the pain to go away. But it swelled until the ache consumed him, washed away all feelings of pleasure, and there was nothing left but the burn.

Finally he could take no more. Groaning, he patted her steaming bottom and ordered her to rise.

"Kiss my hand," he whispered, and she tearfully obeyed, licking at the red, swollen flesh that had sacrificed so much for her pleasure.

The spanking was over.

The End

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