The SlapHappy 3000

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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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The SlapHappy 3000

(****, F/M, Severe, cons paddling, caning)

A guy gets a remote controlled spanking machine. (Approximately 494 words. Originally published 2009-08.)

I'd met Yvette in the Hot Seat chat room. She lived in Baltimore, was 5'4", 116 pounds, with black hair and a 33-21-34 figure. In a schoolgirl outfit she'd melt lead.

We IMed for hours. Sometimes she'd "spank" me, and other times I'd "spank" her. It was she who told me about the new device. She'd heard about it from a 'net buddy. It was called the SlapHappy 3000. I had to buy two, of course. One for each of us. I took out a second on my house and tried not to look at all those zeros when I signed the payment slip.

I was incredibly nervous and excited when the installation guy showed up with the big box. In a few hours, the unit was operational, as demonstrated on "Darla the Dummy."

How shall I describe it? It resembled a weight-lifting bench. Arms, something like octopus tentacles, snaked above it. You could outfit the arms with various attachments: leather or wooden paddles, straps, or fiberglass canes. During operation, you'd lie on your belly with your ass in the indicated "strike zone" and the arms would dutifully whip you. My very own spanking machine. A dream come true.

But this wasn't just any spanking machine. This one included a Firewire connection. By connecting it to my Mac and running the included server software, my SlapHappy was online. Anyone on the 'net with my password could control the device. Via the built-in camera, the person on the other end could see the effects of their selections as well. All that was left to do was to strip naked, strap myself in, and dial up Yvette.

"Have you been a naughty boy?" she typed. Unfortunately, her SlapHappy hadn't arrived yet. Her spanking would come later.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," I said into the camera. "I didn't mean to break the vase."

"I've told you a thousand times, no playing ball in the house! Mommy's going to have to spank you..."

"I know, Mommy."

"It's going to be long _hard_ spanking..."

My breath catches and my buttocks shiver. "Yes, Mommy."

Thousands of miles away from me a beautiful girl slid some software dials, selecting the force to be used and the implement. Then, at her command, the machine began to spank me. The leather paddle was intensely stingy, the wooden one hard and loud. The strapping that followed was merciless. I was sobbing when Yvette began to cane me, the raised scarlet weals clearly visible on her computer screen.

Hours later, I lay on my belly in bed, spent in every way, when the SlapHappy Corporation rep called me to see how I liked their device.

"The greatest invention ever," I mumbled.

* * * * *

Once he'd hung up the phone, the rep checked the "satisfied" box on the form. He authorized the hefty commission payment to Yvette Waters. Damn, she was selling a dozen units a week. How'd the girl do it?

The End

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