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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(*****, M/F, Intense, nc spanking, strapping, buggery)
The muscle for a madam punishes a whore. (Approximately 491 words. Originally published 2009-08.)
She looked stunning, a real high-class dish. She was woman-size, with a slender sexy body I couldn't wait to get my hands on. Her feline face was oval with cute lips and a sharp nose. Her dark eyebrows were high and arched. Her brown hair was swept tightly behind leaving her face and forehead clear. But it was her eyes that grabbed you: almond-shaped and large, with intense, penetrating orbs of brown. Damn but this was some high-class pussy!
She looked at me with disdain, a scornful glare off the tip of her nose. It did not surprise me. I'm no beauty. I'm big and bulky, like a Mack truck. Pretty girls like her have been giving me that look as long as I can remember.
"You're early," she said snottily. I barged in before she could try to stop me.
"Edith sent me," I growled.
"Who's Edith? Who are you?"
"Funny. It seems you've been working on the side. Doing day jobs."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
The flimsy nightgown was like paper in my hands. Her creamy nude body was a sight of heaven. Her breasts were as flawless as the rest of her, grapefruits with red cherries on top.
"Oh God!" she screamed. "Stop!"
"I have a message from Edith." With her squealing protests, I grabbed her by the back of the head and dragged her to the sofa. In a trice she was over my lap. I palmed the satin smooth cheeks of her curved buttocks. "Don't worry, I'm not allowed to damage you."
My hands are as big as pancakes and the spanking was hard and long. At first she just yelped and argued, then she fought. That lasted all of ten spanks. Then she tried to reason with me, then to bribe me with money. I just spanked. Finally, after five minutes or so of non-stop slaps, she wilted, breaking down into sobbing and shuddering. I just spanked.
That perfect face was streaked with mascara, the fancy long lashes splashing tears with each blink. The wide eyes were open with terror, the pretty mouth an "O" of agony. "Please, enough!" she howled. "I'll do whatever you want!"
I just spanked. When her lovely buttocks were carmine, the flesh hot and growing rough, I stopped. She wept.
"Time for the leather," I said, removing my belt. She screamed and begged, but finally cooperated at my warning. Stretched on the bed her purple ass made a splendid target. I gave her a hundred, then fucked her up the ass, where I knew she didn't want it. These fancy whores are all the same; they think they're too good for ass-fucking.
I left her in the apartment sobbing her heart out. I was at the elevators when the red "Twenty-Second Floor" sign registered. I grabbed the paper.
"Oh fuck!" I exclaimed. The whore I was supposed to spank was on the twenty-third floor!