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.


(****, M/F, Intense, nc strapping, caning)

A disciplinarian spanks all day. (Approximately 499 words. Originally published 2010-01.)

At sixteen minutes after nine Roland fed his pass-card into the slot. When the door wheezed open, he rushed into the cubicle. He was late and probably would have to work through lunch. Irritated, he groaned at the thick stack of papers already in his inbox.

Seated in front of the monitor, he logged in and requested the first subject. There was no name, only a number, and no details were given. Roland had no idea of her crime as only the specifics of her punishment were listed: twenty with the #6 strap followed by ten strokes with the #8 cane.

The tube hissed. Time to work. He grabbed the #6 strap from the rack and opened the tube. Inside lay the nude mid-section of a face-down female. She was tightly bound and could do nothing to avoid her punishment. Because the opening was only two feet wide, Roland could only see her from mid-back to mid-thigh. This concealment of identity was on purpose, of course. Roland couldn't be influenced by a pretty face weeping and pleading, and she wouldn't be able to recognize him either.

From his perspective, she was all ass. The buttocks were quite lovely, firm jutting globes that made him guess the girl was scarcely out of her teens. It was no matter, however. He'd seen more buttocks than he could count. Sadly, the beautifully curved cheeks didn't even stir his loins this early in the day.

Lifting the heavy leather belt, he began to strap the waiting buttocks as hard as he could. Thick crimson blotches quickly painted the cheeks. The flesh quivered and squirmed, the owner in obvious distress, yet no sound emerged from the tube for the girl was gagged.

He beat her methodically, counting each stroke out loud for the recorder. His mind wandered as he worked. In the beginning, he'd thought he'd landed the job of a lifetime. What could be better than whipping naked bottoms all day long?

But after six long years of endless strapping, paddling, and caning, he was weary of it. Without a face to go with the bottom, it was no more exciting than whacking a pillow or a blow-up doll. He might as well be beating a rug. He'd sadly come to realize that what mattered was _seeing_ the girl suffer. Now he spent the day fantasizing about the _faces_ of the women he punished.

Unfortunately, he couldn't leave his post: he'd called in too many favors just to get it. Now he was stuck.

The cane was next, purple stripes lining the perfect bottom in a grid of hideous agony. Yet the pain meant nothing to Roland. Without a face, the buttocks were just meaningless meat.

A button press closed the tube and sent the bottom away. In moments, another was in its place, broad and bare, and just as anonymous. With a sigh, Roland selected the brutal #10 paddle. This was going to be a long, tedious day.

The End