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: Preacher's Kid II
(****, m/f, Intense, nc paddle, strap)
A preacher's son is asked to spank a girl again. (Approximately 501 words. Originally published 2000-04.)
I'd looked forward to this day for a week. I still couldn't believe that Sunday's events hadn't been just my imagination. The thought of being able to paddle Alison's saucy bottom again gave me goosebumps. I half expected Mrs. Batty to dismiss me at once.
But she was there, smiling and welcoming, ushering me into her home. Alison was there, too, pretty in white shorts and a blue tee, though an ugly scowl marred her face.
"Alison's been looking forward to your visit, haven't you dear?"
The "good" girl didn't answer with words, but a raised finger.
Mrs. Batty blanched. "See what I put up with? I'm so grateful for your help. You're such a fine boy. I can tell you were properly raised. You understand the value of discipline."
I nodded, my eyes on a wooden cutting board resting on the dining table. Hanging over the back of a chair was a long leather belt.
"Ah, yes! I wasn't sure what you'd need, so I set out a few things. She's been a devil. I want this to be lesson she'll never forget. Alison, get your butt over here."
Alison obeyed slowly, watching me with a baleful stare. "This isn't fair," she spat. "_He's_ only a few years older than me!"
"That's enough, young lady. This is the minister's son and he's a fine young man. No doubt you can learn a lot from him."
Alison stood before me scowling, hands hooked into the waistband of her shorts. I noticed her shirt didn't reach her shorts, leaving a band of belly exposed.
"Turn and drop those shorts!" commanded Mrs. Batty. For such a small woman, she certainly knew how to command.
My mouth went dry as Alison, seething, turned away and slid her shorts down to mid-thigh. Her panties were translucent white and high-cut, exposing a great deal of flesh.
"Use the paddle," I was told, so I did. Every wallop from that big board nearly knocked the poor girl off her feet, but she was stubborn. She gritted her teeth and didn't give me the satisfaction of crying out. Her skin turned pink, then red, then scarlet.
"Alison, drop the panties," inserted Mrs. Batty.
For a moment I thought the pretty, red-faced Alison was going to refuse, but suddenly she yanked the white undergarment down. Her round bottom was completely exposed to me, the skin mottled with crimson blotches.
My orders were to "blister her," so I did. Again and again I walloped her bottom with that paddle, until finally, after several minutes of vigorous application, she broke down sobbing.
There was something false about her tears, however. I picked up the belt. Alison glared at me furiously out of the corner of her eye. I smiled sweetly at her as I brought the heavy leather hard across her squirming hot bottom. She began to howl and I knew I was finally getting through.
Sometimes it's good to be the preacher's kid.