The Train

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 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.

Purchase this story in print form!

Don't like reading on screen? This story is available in print form in Super-Short Stories: Volume 1 at the Flogmaster's Bookstore. Purchase your copy today to encourage the Flogmaster to write more cool stories.

The Train

(*****, M/F, Intense, cons caning)

A couple figure out how to sneak a caning in during work. (Approximately 360 words. Originally published 2009-08.)

Ron was quick, that was for sure. It was the speed of the whole thing that had the most profound impact on Amy. It was over in seconds, leaving her wandering the office with her butt on fire, wondering if she'd just imagined the whole thing.

When he passed her desk at eleven-thirty he'd given her the signal, a slight tilt of the head only she understood. She gulped and nodded, trembling inside.

At precisely one minute to twelve she was knocking on his door. The door opened and shut behind her in a heartbeat. She leaned against the desk as he flipped up her dress and lowered her panties. He flexed the wooden rod as he watched the tension in her face build.

Then it came. First a dull rumbling, soon a deafening roar. The building shook. The cane lashed forward, cracking across her buttocks. She felt the awesome sting, but heard nothing but the train. The sting was repeated in a blur of motion, again and again, six, eight, twelve strokes. How many could he squeeze in? How many could she take?

Then it was over, the roar of the train fading. Amy lay gasping, writhing in stunned misery at the state of her ass. The cheeks blazed with a fury she still found breath-taking. As she slowly rose, she palmed her asscheeks. They steamed with heat. She could feel the thin welts and weals left by the stout rod.

Seconds later she was outside his office, ass wobbling under the thin dress as she walked, smiling at naive co-workers, and so wet she could feel herself dripping all the way to the back of her knees.

Had that really just happened? she wondered. Not one of the dozens of interns or lawyers even looked up when she came out of Ron's office. It was so surreal. Her body told her she'd just been well-spanked, but it had happened so fast. One moment her bottom was lily white and pain free, next she was gritting her teeth not to scream.

She couldn't wait to get home and make use of Ron's other rod.

The End