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: Whip That Smile Off
(****, M/F, Severe, semi-cons spanking, paddling, strapping, caning)
A girl smiles as she is beaten. (Approximately 500 words. Originally published 2003-06.)
A girl about to be whipped shouldn't be smiling.
But Charlene was smiling. She sat in the easy chair, her mini-skirt so tiny it looked like she was half-naked, and watched me as I readied the little wooden paddle, the leather strap, and the long rattan cane. Her lower lip bore the tiniest hint of a smile. I longed to erase it.
I began with a tough spanking. I wanted her to know right off that I meant business. But she took it with hardly a squeal, and eventually my hand hurt so bad I had to stop.
I took up the paddle then, really warming those buns. I soon had them hot pink and steaming, but that only elicited deep sighs from her.
I tried the strap next. It left juicy welts in places, a fierce crimson blush all over her ass. She just purred and wiggled her butt at me. On a pretext of adjusting the lighting, I moved to the lamp in front of her and fiddled with it. My God, she was still smiling!
Determined, I took up the cane and began to thrash her. Most girls can only take about a dozen strokes before they begin to complain. Charlene didn't say a word. After two dozen her ass looked like she'd been sitting on wicker furniture in the nude with a bad sunburn, but she was still smiling.
I caned her harder, really putting my shoulders into it and letting the rod sink deep into that splendid ass. It didn't faze her a bit. The infernal grin was still there.
I was now exhausted, drenched with sweat, and panting. But I couldn't let her beat me. I went back to the paddle, hoping it might hurt more over the cane weals. Her buns quivered and danced, but the smile persisted.
Finally, I gave up. The girl had beaten me. There was nothing I could do short of branding her ass with a hot iron or cutting her up with a bullwhip. Though some do that, I don't.
"You're done," I said with a sigh of despair. I threw down my tools.
Slowly she got up. Her face was stained with tears and her eyes were red from crying. The look she gave me was incomprehensible: fear, respect, lust. I was intrigued. But she still wore that damned grin.
She didn't speak as she got dressed. Her husband was in the lounge outside and settled the bill.
"The session was, uh, a bit fierce today," I murmured. I felt I had to say something.
"Yeah, she was awfully quiet. Had that silly grin the whole time."
He laughed. "She can't talk. We just came from the dentist. Her mouth's all numb."
A sledge hammer hit me in the chest. I stared at him in disbelief. I opened my mouth to apologize when the girl met my eyes. Something there made me pause.
Then, I swear, she winked!