Deputy Sheriff Wade Sampson sat at his desk in the sheriff's office. He had long since come to think of it as his own desk, since Sheriff Carlson, elderly, had been ill for some time. Wade was a burly man, thick−shouldered and short−necked. His belly protruded over his belt, but it was a hard belly. He had small eyes and a bullet head, close−cropped, while his expression was usually an intimidating glower. Wade Sampson was highly aware of the prerequisites of his office and not at all bashful about employing them to his own best advantage.
He had been deputy long enough to know where a lot of bodies were buried in the community, as he was fond of saying about the private peccadilloes which came within the department's province, and even influential businessmen smiled weakly at his heavy−handed, razor−edged attempts at witticisms. Wade had a reputation as a hard man, a reputation he delighted in and did nothing to refute. He glanced at his watch impatiently. The girl was late, and he had made a special trip back to the office in the basement of the county building. Well, he'd make her butt smoke when she did arrive.
His heavy lips loosened lasciviously at the thought. The sassiest of the local sassy little pullets lost their ginger when Wade Sampson got a shot at their tailpieces. And Wade Sampson spent the greater part of his waking day scheming for and arranging just such confrontations.
The iron bar on the basement's side door clanged open and a girl sidled inside. She was slim, dark−haired,ivory−skinned, and breathless. Her young face was puckered in worry. “I'm sorry, Mr. Sampson, I h−hurried as fast as…”
“You're late,” Wade Sampson declared flatly. “You must not care whether I tell your mother or not.”
“Oh, I do! I do! Please don't do that! Please don't.”
“Get yourself over here,” Wade said heavily.
The girl approached him with obvious trepidation. “N−not so hard this time, Mr. Sampson?” she pleaded.“Please? I'll…I’ll be good. Do you have to?”
“Quiet,” Wade growled. “I told you a month ago you had a choice after Doug Carroll caught you
shopliftin' in his store an' I brought you here. I told you that you could choose between my callin' your mother right then an' there, or takin' two bare−bottom spankings a month apart, didn't I?”
“Yes, but I didn't know”
Wade unbuckled his gun belt and dropped it on the desk. He shoved his chair back and slapped his thighs.“Get over my knees, girl,” he said.
The girl started to cry. She approached Sampson with tears streaming down her cheeks and her hands nervously smoothing her dress over her stomach. “It h−hurts so,” she sobbed, but she obediently draped her slender frame over the deputy sheriff's heavy thighs.
Wade Sampson reached over her pliant body to open his desk drawer from which he removed a cut−down ping−pong paddle. Half its surface and a third of its weight had been removed. The remainder was mercilessly effective in contributing a burning smart to a girlish bared behind.
“P−please!” the girl whimpered in a choked voice as she felt Wade reach for the hem of her skirt. “Not h−hard.”
Sampson paid no attention. With the skill born of practice he tugged her cutoff shorts and panties down until the entire expanse of her pink−pantied bottom was exposed. The girl wriggled uneasily when she felt Sampson's big hand at the waistband of her panties. “Oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly as he drew her underwear down suddenly so that the whole of her pale−ivory petite buttocks appeared.
“Now we'll just see to it you think it over a time or two before you go into a store again with itchy fingers,”Sampson said heavily. "We'll start with a hand spankin'." He was anxious to experience the satiny feel of her tender rump as he spanked it to a hot glow. The girl squirmed uncomfortably as he ran his hand across the resilient mounds. He raised his hand, and the girl tensed her body.
“I won't! I won't!” the girl bleated. “Ip−prom−ise I won't ever....oww!”
The “oww!” had been immediately preceded by the explosive crack of the deputy's palm on her bare flesh. The young buttocks clenched convulsively as the pink outline of a handprint sprang up on a soft globe. Wade Sampson zeroed in on its twin and flicked his calloused palm onto its resilient target−area.
“Oooooh!” the girl gasped as her stomach climbed involuntarily from Wade's knees.
He thrust her ruthlessly into position again, then steadily pursued the writhing, pinkening girlish behind which threshed frantically in a vain effort to evade the accumulating heat in the young, nude hind parts. The girl began to kick at each burning impact of the man's hand, her slender legs parting to disclose downy body hair at their juncture. Wade Sampson's heavy features turned nearly as red as the hot−looking youthful hemispheres he was spanking.
“Oww! Ooooh! Oooooooh! OWWWW! Ohh−hhhh! Mr. S−Sampson! Ohhhhh!” the girl cried out. Choked sobs punctuated the increasing volume of her pitiful shrieks as the deputy's hard hand cracked sonorously against her wobbling bottom cheeks.
“Owwww! It h−hurts! Aieeeeeee!”
Sampson held the light weight on his knees despite the girl's squirming as her bare seat turned crimson from the repetitive smacks. Then he switched to the paddle.
She felt a new sharper pain as the wood relentlessly cracked against her sore flesh. Yow! How that stung!
She humped herself up and down, twisted from side to side, disclosing anew mossy curls covering but not concealing a dainty−looking slit, then yelled hoarsely as she found herself totally unable to escape the paddle blistering her naked rump. She bucked and heaved, modesty forgotten in the midst of her gluteal distress.
“There!” Wade Sampson announced suddenly, stopping the spanking when a note of hysteria entered the girlish high−pitched shrieks. For an instant the girl didn't realize her ordeal had ended; then she rolled off the deputy's knees and crouched on the floor, moaning softly as she furiously rubbed her scarlet croup with both hands. Wade stared at the dark bush under the smooth bowl of her rounded belly, itself pink from its frictionizing struggle against Wade's khakis.
“Don't let me have any more phone calls from storekeepers like Doug Carroll, understand?” he said in a warning voice as the girl's half−strangled sobs and whimpers gradually died out.
“Oooooh, you w−won't, b−believe me!” the girl promised fervently. She removed her hands from her bottom to scrub her knuckles against her tear−reddened eyes, but almost immediately returned them to rubsoothingly again. “Ohhhhhh, but my behind is B−BURN−ING!”
“Get yourself together,” Wade said patronizingly, eyes on the vermilion flower of the budding seat cushions above the slender white stalks of the girl's thighs. “You're showin' quite a bit there, you know.”
A hot tide of color flooded the young face as the girl groped for and then tugged up the panties bunched at mid−thigh. Hurriedly she scrambled to her feet and shook down the slip and dress rolled up around her shoulders. “Cancan I go now, Mr. Sampson?” she asked timidly.
“Sure you can,” he said easily. “An' keep that ass of yours out've trouble, okay? I'd hate to have to give you another whalin' like that.” Sure he would, he thought, laughing to himself. Only a matter of time.
Wordlessly the girl moved to the door leading to the outside stairs and the street.
When it clanged shut behind her, Wade Sampson laughed heartily, held the paddle under his nose for an instant and sniffed at it curiously, then thrust it back into the desk drawer out of sight.