General Perversion

 General Perversion in action. Are you ready>

General Perversion in action. Are you ready>

I nervously knocked at the door.  I'd been called to the office of General Perversion for disciplinary action.  Today I was to receive my sentence...and its execution.  

"Enter," the General barked.

It took sheer force of will to keep my hands from shaking as I turned the knob to the General's office.  As I opened the door, I saw the General sitting behind a makeshift wooden desk in a chair that I can describe only as looking like all it lacked was an electrified helmet, and it would be the perfect execution device.

The chair itself was made of dark-colored 2x4s, and the wood looked distressed from who-knows-what-happened.  The antique brass hardware only contributed to the austere look.  But scarier than that were what looked like metal electrical conduits running up along the sides and back of the chair.  Electrical wires sprung from them and played about the General like Medusa's snake-hair.

Perhaps the only more terrifying-looking thing than the chair was the General herself—yes, HERself.  A dark gray military cap with red trim and a light gray cord across the brim sat tightly atop her mid-back-length blonde locks.  Her eyes were covered by mirrored military glasses, making her face inscrutable, aside from the sneer on her pink-painted lips.  She wore a gray uniform that matched the color of her hat: dark gray with red trim.  Her title, GENERAL PERVERSION, was embroidered in white capital letters across her collarbone.    Large smoky-silver buttons fastened the uniform in front of her, disappearing below the desktop.  Red, silver, and black lanyards hung from her left shoulder, and her hands were covered with black leather gloves that dully shone in the light from the high windows behind her.

The desk had a few papers on it, but it was the crop that caught my attention, lying there in wait like a snake waiting to strike.  I swallowed nervously.

Suddenly, the General's voice boomed through the room, "a-TEN-SHUN!"

I instantly sucked myself up into a salute.  I didn't know how long I'd been standing and staring at the General, but my nerves were now even more on edge than they had been before.

"Lousy manners, soldier," the General growled.  I felt the burn of shame across my face and the pierce of disapproval from behind her inscrutable glasses, but I steeled my jaw and looked straight ahead.

The General took up a piece of paper in her hand and spoke slowly, deliberately, and with a hint of Eastern European accent.

"You were convicted of getting caught masturbating," she said icily.  She looked up at me. "Such behavior is unbecoming of a soldier.  Your sentence is corporal punishment, to be administered until lacrimation."

I gasped, a hint of a thrill going through my body, and I felt my dick lurch at the idea.  Did the General know that corporal punishment was a trigger for me?  I clenched my teeth tighter still, afraid to let the General see my excitement.

"Stoic behavior is becoming," the General said bluntly, "but I will make you cry."

I swallowed nervously.

"STRIP!" the General ordered.  My mouth dropped open.

"Uh, Sir?" I said hesitantly.

"Are you deaf, soldier?  I said STRIP!" the General barked, and I hastily began to remove my boots, my socks, my pants, my shirt, my undershirt, my underpants, my hat.  I knew better than to just toss them into a pile, and so I hurriedly folded them and stacked them on top of my boots.

"A-TEN-SHUN!"  The order came no sooner than I had placed my hat on top of the stack.  I felt a bit embarrassed, standing at attention, naked, in front of the General.  The General seemed to regard me with cool indifference.

Deliberately pushing back her chair and putting her gloved hands on the desk, the General stood, revealing that she wore nothing but a sheer thong on her midsection.  Her shapely legs remained hidden behind the desk.  My eyes bulged.  The General was hot!  Forgetting myself, I made the mistake of letting the corners of my lips turn up in excitement.

It was an error in judgment the General would not let me forget.

There was a heavy thump as the General's shiny patent leather boots thudded from around the desk.  She stood in front of me, and I let my gaze fall to her perfectly round breasts, pushing against the fabric of her uniform.

"Letting your eyes fall, soldier?" she asked in a quiet, chilling, captivating voice.

My eyes darted back up, and I sucked in a breath.

"Why is that?" she continued, making a very slow, deliberate circle around me, crop in hand.  As she went around behind me, she let the crop trail along my groin, around my leg, and over the cleft of my left buttock.

"Like what you see?" she growled.  I started to nod, panting as perspiration beaded up on my forehead.

POP!

Without warning, the General's crop flew across my ass, leaving a welt at an angle.  My right leg buckled, but I pulled myself back up, gasping.

"Is that any kind of respect to give to the General?  Ogling her like a piece of meat?  Like you ogle your pornography when you masturbate?"  The questions came from her mouth like little daggers.  I couldn't tell which hurt more: the sting of the crop, or the sting of her accusations.

But deep inside, I felt the thrill of being punished.  I had been bad for masturbating.  I knew it was bad and I did it anyway.  Military protocol explicitly forbade it.  But I did it anyway.  I got caught.  And now the General herself was teaching me to behave.

"I ought to strip you out of the service for that," the General said evenly.  I heard her behind me.  "But I'll settle for taking it out on your hide."

POP!

I shuddered as a bright red welt appeared, crisscrossing the previous one.  I took a breath, feeling suddenly giddy.  I felt the General stroke the crop across my buttocks, sending little thrills of electricity along my spine and into my groin.  I felt my dick hardening, worried that the General would notice.

"What's this?" she asked.  She noticed.

The crop came to rest underneath my hardening shaft.  The stimulation only excited me further, and I felt myself throbbing.  My face burned with embarrassment, but a glance at the General shocked me: she was smiling.

"Bend over the desk," the General said gently but firmly.  "It is good when a soldier appreciates the discipline given to him."

I spread my legs and leaned over the desk.  The weight of my body pressed my cock against the wood, cool and hard beneath my skin.  I felt the crop against my balls, and my toes curled in response.

"Cry for me," the General said, her voice kind, "and your discipline will be complete."

She began to tap the crop over my ass.  Not hard, but over and over in the same place over and over.  Over and over, and I began to feel the discomfort, but with it came the sensation of floating.  As the repeated strikes built up, I began to tense.  My ass warmed, and I began to sweat all over.  But still the swats continued.

"Mmmph," I murmured, my breathing heavy.  My cock was sore with anticipation, and I felt myself beginning to float away.

And now the crop began to swat in earnest.  Whap!  Whap!  Whap!  With each strike, I gasped, my chest heaving against the desk.  The papers beneath me grew crumpled and soggy with my sweat, but I couldn't have cared less.

"Ohh!" I moaned as the intensity grew once again.

POP!  I sucked in my breath and let it out in a huff.

POP!  My toes spread wide, lifting me off the ground.

POP!  My toes collapsed beneath me, leaving me trembling with anticipation.  My dick oozed on the desk, and my throat was dry from the heavy breathing.

CRACK!  I saw stars momentarily as the blow hit my backside.

The crop grazed over my balls.  With a shudder, I emptied them on the desk while my mind soared way above the whole scene.  My body lay there shuddering and spasming on the desk.

Eventually, the sea of endorphins I'd been riding began to wear off, and I felt myself floating back down toward my body.  The satisfaction of having just gotten off overwhelmed me, and I clutched the desk, sagging towards the floor.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and the General helped me to my feet.  She sat in the evil-looking chair and pulled me onto her lap.  In spite of myself, I felt my eyes well up, and I sobbed on her shoulder.  The feeling had been so intense, so wonderful that the only way I could express it was through a much-needed cry.  The General held me kindly, stroking my shoulder comfortingly as I let it all go.

"Well done, soldier," she whispered in my e