Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Red State Nation

Sorry I've been a week without posting.  And this post isn't new material either, I'll confess.  I've been traveling, and I promise to have a new story soon.  Anyway...

Every summer since 1999, the Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Newsgroup has held a summer short story contest, where amateurs are encouraged to submit a <500 word spanking fiction story.  In recent years the quality has gone down, and the site administration has faultered, but the idea still seems good.  Of course, there still haven't been awards (they're unofficial, non-financial) given from last summer, when we're now closer to the next.  But there are reviews for essays on the site with an award ceremony planned soon.  I invite you to read some, as there are a few gems, and they're only 500 words tops.  And better yet, submit your own story when next summer comes around and raise the quality of the postings.  Of course, if you just want to read my contribution, I've posted a copy of it below.  It was inspired while reading  "What's the Matter With Kansas" by Thomas Frank.  A good book, but nothing to do with spanking, FYI...

A tiny part of Trisha considered herself lucky.  Unlike her male peers, at least she wasn't being forced to die in some horrid war in Iran, Venezuela, China, Israel, North Korea or a dozen other countries not really on her mind at this moment.

"Trisha, you were found guilty of interstate distribution of illegal propaganda by a United States' court, and are to now be sentenced to 25 strokes of the cane.  Do you have any comment before your sentence?"

"I love big brother," came to her mind, but she held her tongue and replied simply, "no sir."

Trisha was in fact guilty of distributing her manifesto detailing the history of her corrupted government, its culpability in corporate scandals, and the deliberate swindling of workers dating back to Ronald Reagan--now virtually a patron saint of American politics.  The piece was a work in progress ever since her introduction to muckraking and a Gender Studies graduate degree at Harvard, one of the last holdouts of liberal academia.  That combined with her doctorate in public policy barely qualified her to the life of another American slave, commuting in her Neon through 70 miles of suburbia to sit in a desk manipulating numbers for some insurance company.

Now she was carrying out her sentence as the first person convicted under the new federal American Patriotism and Loyalty Act.  Corporal punishment had been recognized as neither cruel nor unusual by precedent set decades earlier, but few had predicted it ever being used in a non-violent case.  But lest the desperately poor ever realize their candidates were mainly serving the pockets of the filthy rich, grandstanding must progress ever further against the alleged evils of liberalism.

Trisha was presently dressed in an orange regulation button top that barely covered her belly and red cotton panties.  A few steps' climb was made to her metal podium and she was bound first by ankles, then folded across the cold top and wrists fastened to its front.  She tried to humor herself in the irony that this nation of God-fearing Americans would likely soon be masturbating en masse to her martyrdom as they watched live on Fox-Span webcast her white curvy butt turn red and blue striped, contrast against her tan, long legs.

Trish's legs were bound just barely enough to permit a guard's single-motion removal of her underpants to her ankles.  As she tried not to think about it, she inadvertently made eye contact with the camera, and her face flushed bright red.  A microphone was placed in front of her to capture her anguish, displayed in the form of a moaning, "Oww!" as a thin cane deftly dug and rebounded deep into the meaty middle of her rear.

"One!" went up the cheer of the gathering of well-dressed businessmen, privileged to be well connected to Republican leadership for prime seats.  Trisha projected a glare of outrage through her bangs into the camera and ground her teeth as a second stroke rebounded with a loud thwack.

The End

© Copyright Dante Hunter 2005

Reviews

Sir Hal
The author of this story really put a lot of work into it.  This was not a easy story to construct.  I checked by TV Guide channel but the station is not available in my area.  What scares me, is this might not be fiction, the way things are going.  I enjoyed the word pictures that the writer painted for us in this story.  This story reminded me of a book by Angus Balfour, Shades of Singapore.  I don't know if it still in print or not.  I sure hope that this writer continues to write for us.  I know that I will be looking for more stories from this writer.

SG    <kitten_klaws(at)webtv(dot)net>
I read through this story a number of times and found the ending to always be a turn-on despite the unseemly realism of this fictitious fantasy.  I wouldn't mind discovering Ann Coulter in a similar scenario in a story entitled Blue State Nation.  Whip it good!

Poiesia    <poiesia(at)gmail(dot)com>
I enjoyed this story.  It was well written, thorough, satirical and maybe more dead on than is comfortable to think.  The cynical truisms made this a very identifiable piece and the story is original in situation and setting.  I really, really enjoyed this story.

Any other opinions?  I'd love to hear them.

3 comments:

Nobilis Reed said...

Scary and erotic at the same time.

::shudder::

tracyg said...

nobilis took the words outta my mouth.

bout time you posted! ;)

Dante Hunter said...

Thanks nobilis & brat. Good to know that someone's here after a bit of a sabbatical. And thank you carlsbad construction. I really needed to know about putting up shitty condos in California, and if it weren't for the link some little a-hole's robot left, what options would I have? Guess I could turn on the little "verifier" thing, but I'm going to go old school and moderate comments by hand. Good to know that my site has enough notoriety to attract robots though. I'm moving up.

--Dante