Touch

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1995-2009 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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Touch

(****, M/f, Severe, strapping of breasts and sex)

A girl is fondled by a boy and severely punished for it. (Approximately 2,822 words. Originally published 2004-01.)

"Silence, please!" commanded Father Whaler, and the room went quiet. Seventeen-year-old Noelle Perkins sniffled and wiped a tear off her pretty cheek. In the other chair, sixteen-year-old Randal Cook sat looking alternately sullen and terrified.

"Now, one at a time. Noelle, you go first. Tell me what happened."

Noelle stifled a sob, batted her pretty eyes at the school principal, and flashed Randy a sharp glare.

"It was after school. I stayed late after cheerleading practice. I went to the locker room to shower and *he* was there."

"In the locker room?"

"Lurking outside, hoping for a peek," said Noelle with a dark scowl. "Anyway, I told him to get lost. Then he... he, er, made a pass at me."

Father Whaler frowned. "What did he say?"

"He implied we were alone, and suggested he come into the shower with me."

"Ah."

"Naturally, I told him to drop dead."

"Of course," nodded Father Whaler.

"I wanted to go into the locker room, but he was standing in the doorway. I tried to slip by him, and that's when he grabbed me."

"How did he grab you?" Father Whaler held up a palm, freezing Randy's mouth in the act of opening. "You'll get your chance, young man. Let Noelle tell her side first."

Noelle grinned smugly at Randy's rebuke. "Around my waist. And his hands... they grabbed my a--, er, my behind."

The principal's eyes widened. "Randy touched your bottom?"

Noelle nodded eagerly. "Full on. One palm on each cheek."

"What happened next?"

"Well, I tried to break away, but I was caught. He was holding me tightly. I squirmed, but that just made his grip on my, er, bottom tighter.

"After a minute or so, I gave up and relaxed. I said, 'Enjoying yourself Randy?' and he laughed and said, 'Yeah! You've got a nice ass!'"

"I didn't say that!" interrupted Randy. He half rose from his chair, but shut his mouth and sat back down when he received a reproving stair from Father Whaler.

"Quiet, Randy. This is a serious situation here and I don't need your interruptions."

"But I didn't say that! I said, 'You've got a great butt.' That's the God's truth, sir. I mean, look at her: she's got a great butt."

Father Whaler frowned, then nodded to Noelle. "Please continue."

Noelle sniffed with distain at Randy, then continued. "Anyway, his comment made me angry, and I tried to get away. That's when his hands slipped down, off my butt and onto my thighs. But it was just for a second. He then slid his hands up under my skirt and palmed my butt again!"

"Under your skirt!" exclaimed Father Whaler.

"Yes sir."

The principal, shaking his head, turned to the boy. "Is this true, young man? You fondled this young lady's panties?"

Randy somberly shook his head. "No sir. I did no such thing."

"Liar!" screamed Noelle, and the principal was forced to call for silence again.

"You didn't fondle her bottom?" asked Father Whaler.

"Uh, no, I _did_ do that, sir, but I didn't touch her panties."

"Ah, so you claim you didn't put your hands under her skirt."

"No, I did put my hands under her skirt."

Father Whaler's forehead creased with puzzlement. "You put your hands under her skirt and fondled her bottom but you didn't touch her panties?"

"Yes sir."

The principal's voice took a sharp tone. "Young man, I don't think you realize the serious nature of this situation. This is not a time for silly word games. I want you to tell me the truth here: did you, or did you not touch Noelle's panties?"

Randy gulped nervously and shook his head vigorously. "Sir, I did not. She was not wearing any underwear."

Slowly Father Whaler's rotated to focus on Noelle, and suddenly she was blushing and staring at the floor. "Is this true, Noelle?"

"Uh, sir, I--"

"It is true."

"Sir, please, he _touched_ me--"

"We can easily verify his claim," said the principal. "If you'd please stand up and raise your skirt..."

Noelle's face went bright pink. "Sir! Uh, oh no, I can't, I couldn't. It wouldn't be right. You can't ask me..." She bowed her head. "It's true, sir. I wasn't wearing panties."

"So when his hands went up under your skirt, he was fondling your bare buttocks."

Noelle's pink face nodded. "Yes sir."

"Okay. What happened next?"

"Well, I was so shocked, stunned that he was _touching_ me, and I couldn't get away. The next thing I knew he had a hand up my blouse and was squeezing my right breast."

"And were you wearing a brassiere?"

Noelle's eyes dropped to stare at the carpet. For a long moment she didn't speak. "Uh, no sir."

"So no brassiere and no underwear. You were only wearing your cheerleading uniform."

"Yes sir."

"And he fondled your right breast."

"And my left also, sir. He'd alternate between my breasts and bottom. He was rubbing me all over."

"And you didn't resist?"

Noelle's blushed deepened. "Sir, I was... confused. He was touching me all over, getting me, uh, excited. My body was reacting. I didn't want... I didn't want him to touch me, but he was doing it, and it, uh... well it turned me on."

Father Whaler's face was impassive. "So you cooperated."

"Just for a few seconds," said Noelle quickly. "Like I said, I was confused."

"She kissed me," said Randy suddenly.

Father Whaler's eyebrows went up.

Noelle slumped in her chair. She couldn't look at the principal. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she nodded. "It's true, sir. I did kiss him. It was just an impulse. He had his hands all over me, rubbing me, and his lips were near my neck, breathing on me, and suddenly I had this overpowering urge: I just had to kiss him."

"I see."

"It was just for a few seconds, then I broke it off."

"Uh huh."

"I don't like him, sir. It was nothing like that. It was just the spirit of the moment."

"I understand completely," said Father Whaler. "Please continue. What happened after you broke off the kiss?"

"Well, I wanted to get away, but... his hands felt so good on me, and I felt weak. I tried, but I couldn't break free of his embrace. And then..." -- Noelle's eyes flashed brightly -- "... then he slipped a hand between my legs!"

Father Whaler's impassive face went tense and showed signs of anger. "What, _exactly_, did he do?"

Noelle blushed. "He touched my... sex, sir. He fondled me there. He petted me."

Father Whaler turned to Randy. "Is this true?"

The boy nodded. "She was wet."

Noelle's cheeks went scarlet. "I-I couldn't help it, sir! He was touching me all over!"

"She had an orgasm," interjected Randy.

Noelle gasped. "No! That's not true!"

Randy pressed forward. "When I touched her there, she moaned and pressed herself against me. I rubbed, and then she was bucking and spasming like a fish on dry land."

"No!"

"Yes, and when she stopped, she was panting and sighing, and then she broke away from me, gave me a little kiss on the cheek, and went into the locker room."

Father Whaler looked at Noelle. "Is that true?"

"Noooo," moaned the girl miserably. "I didn't want it to happen, I didn't. It just did. He _touched_ me! What was supposed to happen when he did that? Isn't it just natural to get hot when a boy touches you?"

"Only when the touch is desired," said Father Whaler. He turned to Randy. "I think I have a clear idea what happened here. Why don't you return to class -- I want to talk with Noelle privately."

Randy eagerly bolted from the room, leaving the principal and the crying girl alone.

"Aren't-aren't you going to punish him?" asked Noelle desperately. "He _touched_ me!"

"Of course," nodded Father Whaler. "Randal Cook will be dealt with. But first, I must deal with you."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You, young lady, are a slut."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. You're a slut. Running around in your cheerleader outfit with no bra and no panties: that's a slut. You _liked_ it when Randy grabbed your bottom. You _liked_ it when he fondled your breasts. And you were aroused to the point of orgasm when he rubbed your sex!"

"I-I couldn't help it," sobbed Noelle pitifully. "He got me all hot, touching me. I couldn't help it."

"Of course you could," said Father Whaler sternly. He opened a drawer in his desk and removed a long piece of tough leather. Noelle didn't realize what he was doing as he guided her to his desk and leaned her forward across it.

"I think it appropriate we punish the source of your sin, this naughty bottom of yours."

As he spoke, Father Whaler lifted the back flap of the petite cheerleading skirt up and tucked it into Noelle's waistband. She gasped, suddenly realizing what was happening.

"Noooo!" Her hands flashed back to protect her exposed buttocks.

"Hands on the desk, palms down," ordered the principal sternly. "Don't make this any worse."

"Oh, but sir! It's not my fault! I didn't do anything. _He_ touched _me_. He's the one that deserves the whipping!"

"Of course he does," nodded Father Whaler. "After all, _he_ committed the sin of seeing your naked backside flash him when you were practicing your little cheer routine. We ought to gouge his naughty eyes out with a fork."

For a moment, Noelle froze in puzzlement, confused by the principal's words. It took her a few seconds to realize the man was being sarcastic.

"Sir, I didn't..."

"Yes, yes. You didn't do anything. In fact, I'd say it was your bottom here that's entirely to blame. And it's such a naughty bottom. Very pert, quite lovely. Randy was certainly correct: you do have a great butt. No wonder he was led into temptation. Yes, this is a very naughty bottom and it deserves a thorough strapping.

"Now you just lie still there while I deal with your naughty bottom. Keep those hands on the desk unless you want to increase the punishment you have coming. I can certainly strap those hands if I need to do so. I can also call in a Sister to help hold you down if you don't remain in position."

With those words, the principal pulled the leather strap back to his shoulder and brought it down hard across the bared cheeks of the girl's bottom. The snap of leather against flesh was deafening in the small office. A crimson band suddenly appeared across the plump curves of the girl's bottom. Noelle screamed and writhed, the stinging so intense she almost put her hands back to grab her butt but remembered at the last second and stopped herself.

Again the leather lashed down, and again Noelle danced and screamed. She could scarcely believe this was happening. Wasn't she the victim here? Yet her bottom was on _fire_. It didn't make any sense. She clung to the desk and sobbed, not daring to protest her situation.

The whipping was long and hard. Noelle's shapely buttocks quickly reddened, covered with bright red blotches of pain. Puffy welts swelled up, and then welts on top of welts. The cheeks bounced and trembled with every stroke of the hard leather, and Noelle danced and waved her bottom all about in a desperate search for mitigation of the sting.

"So," Father Whaler said, finally pausing, "has your naughty bottom been thoroughly punished?"

"Yes!" screamed Noelle. "Oh God, yes! A thousand times yes!"

"How does it feel to have your naughty bottom punished?"

"It hurts! It really really hurts!"

"But you feel better inside, don't you? All that guilt is gone?"

Noelle didn't know what say to that, so she remained silent.

"Well, perhaps not all the guilt. We've punished your bottom, of course, but it was only part of the problem, right? I believe another part of your body committed a sin?"

"Sir?" moaned Noelle.

"Your breasts, young lady!" snapped the principal, lashing the leather strap hard across the back of Noelle's thighs. She screamed and half stood, shrieking and writhing terribly, desperate to rub her legs but afraid of the consequences.

"Remove your blouse."

Noelle's face showed her terror and shame, but she didn't dare disobey. She quickly stripped off her top, baring her impressive breasts for the man.

"Oh yes, very naughty," said the principal. "These need to be thoroughly punished."

"Sir?" gasped Noelle. Her hands flashed to her breasts to protect them.

"Hands at your sides," ordered the man. "I will now whip your breasts."

What followed made the bottom whipping seem like love play. The sting of the strap was horrendous, especially across the hypersensitive flesh of the breast. The heavy boobs bounced back and forth, battered by the leather strap, and Noelle just stood there weeping.

The worst was that she could see every stroke coming. She tried to keep her eyes shut but couldn't: she just had to watch the strap. But there was nothing she could do to avoid it. She just had to grit her teeth and endure the pain. She would watch the strap rise, see it descend, and feel it connect with her breast. For a fraction of a second there was no pain. Then it would hit: a flood of signals that her flesh was in agony. She would scream, and the tears would flow and drip down her face and onto her breasts, but the pain was relentless. Noelle thought it would never stop.

Eventually, it did. Father Whaler was panting heavily. Noelle's crimson breasts were a mass of crisscrossed welts and blisters. She couldn't stop crying, though she'd run out of tears long ago. At least, though, it was over.

But what was this? Father Whaler wasn't adjusting her skirt -- he was removing it!

"Sir?" she panted.

"We must punish the other naughty part of your body," explained the principal.

"Sir?!" Alarm crept into Noelle's voice and she became more alert. It wasn't over???

The deep brown eyes of the man bored into the girl's. "What else did Randy touch?"

Noelle was so shocked she couldn't breathe. She stared at the man in disbelief. From somewhere, a dull moan of protest came from her. This couldn't be happening.

But it was. Her legs were wide apart, her hands behind her neck. The strap was being lifted, swinging in an uppercut stroke. It caught her full across the lips of her sex, drawing forth a screech of agony. She howled and danced for a full minute, unable to stop herself. Her hands grabbed her stinging sex and rubbed furiously, and it was only another sharp lash across the back of her legs that convinced her to get back into position and lock her fingers together behind her head.

"Oh please," she begged, moaning loudly. "Not again."

"Young lady, you've been a very naughty girl," scolded Father Whaler gently. "_Especially_ this part." He dragged the leather strap between her legs and up across her mound, sending her into spasms of confusing pleasure mixed with pain.

The confusion vanished quickly with another forceful blow. Noelle moaned and gritted her teeth and willed her hands not to move. The threat of further punishment had her terrorized. The lash struck again, and again, and Noelle howled and sobbed. The leather caught the tender insides of her thighs, the vulnerable flesh of her sex, and even reached between her legs to sting the plump underhang of her asscheeks.

Father Whaler was thorough: he whipped Noelle for a quarter of an hour from the front, then gave her several dozens from behind. He made her spread her legs so wide she was almost doing the splits, hands on the floor in front of her, while he punished her crack and asshole.

Noelle was scarcely conscious. All she could do was sob and obey.

Finally, he made her stand again, and gave her a few "touch ups" to her bottom and breasts.

"There, I think that does it," he said, breathing heavily and returning the well-worn strap to its home in the desk. "I trust you have learned your lesson, young lady?"

"Yes sir," blubbered Noelle.

"No more allowing boys to touch you."

Noelle's shoulders slumped forward with dejection. It was hopeless. "Yes sir."

"All right. Put your clothes on and you may leave."

Noelle obeyed, moving as quickly as she could though she felt weak and exhausted. As she reached the door, she heard Father Whaler clear his throat.

"Hem. Noelle. Let's have you back in two weeks. For a follow-up visit. I want to make sure you're going well, and that you haven't gone down this same dirty path again."

Noelle choked back a sob. "Yes sir," she whispered, and then she ran from the room.

The End

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