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The following story is fiction about CP.  The story contains scenes of strapping and fantasy sex.  If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.  It would be best to read Cyclists on the Bridge first as it sets the background for this story.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.


No Bike Riding on Walkways
Cyclist in the Park – 2/3

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

It was a fantastic day just as had been predicted.  My plans were to meet some friends and cycle about on The Island.  The Island is a public park with great views of harbor like from the Great Bridge I talked about in the previous section.© Y Lee Coyote

Of course not all the pathways are open to bike riding but there are plenty which are.  Lots of places to rest, eat and talk with one’s buddies.  To get to this paradise one must take a ferry for its short run.  There is frequent service and it is free until ten A.M.

I had the pleasure of sleeping in since it was not a work day.  I got going just in time for the last free boat.  I peddled on the bike lanes to get to the ferry.  It was wonderful even with the stink of the gas guzzlers.  Until…

Until it wasn’t!  The street was impassible because of construction so I detoured.  I peddled on, annoyed but not panicked.  Then I encountered a street fair.  Another detour.  Now I was late.  I peddled harder and then there was a park.

No bike paths there, unfortunately.  Going around would take forever so I went into the park.  I can hear you saying it: “You should have dismounted and walked your bike through.”  You’re absolutely right.  But I was late and annoyed and it wasn’t busy so I just peddled on.  Until…

Until the traffic policeman suddenly appeared in front of me holding up a big 🛑 sign.  I had to stop.  That’s when the nightmare started.

We worked through id and a traffic citation with a hefty fine. <sigh>

We worked through a short lecture about why one should never ride on the walkways. <sigh>

Stupidly I thought I would be able to continue but the officer said there was just one more little thing.  He pointed to the sign his partner was attaching to the nearby fence.

Riding a bicycle on the pedestrian walkway is a violation of the
Motor Vehicle Act
* * *
Public summary corporal punishment is authorized.

Yipe!  How could I have forgotten after my wonderful experience on the Great Bridge just few weeks ago?  My bike was quickly chained to the fence and I was ordered to drop my pants and undies and bend over the adjacent bench.

It was surprisingly horrifying and I froze.  It should not have been since I had witnessed it just a few weeks ago but now it was happening to ME!  The officer was impatient and opened my belt and jeans.  The other one was behind me and yanked everything down.  A hard shove and I fell over the bench and they cuffed me to it.

I was now the helpless target of their official wrath.  It was not at all like when it was happening to others on the bridge.  They read the legal gobbledygook and it was even less understandable this time as I was worried about my fully exposed naked ass.

That vicious strap landed on my tail.  I yelled in pain.  I heard the count ONE.  But nothing but the pain in my rump was of interest now.  The pain got worse and worse as the strap did its job.  It was not a bit erotic like when it was happening to others.

Thinking back there was a slight pause.  Yes, they must be switching after eight cuts.  As the second set was applied, all the universe was obscured by the novas in my butt.  I was bawling by the time they stopped.  I thought I would never sit again.

I heard people passing by make ridiculous comments like “What a beautiful glowing, naughty butt.” and “He got what he deserved.” and “I sure would love to fuck that red-hot tail.”

It was a half hour later that they released me.  I could barely stand.  It was a struggle to pull up my pants.  I hobbled away dragging my bike.

My phone was beeping.  I sent a text to my buddies “Have to cancel.  Go on without me.”

I found a patch of grass and lay down – need I say prone – to contemplate my stupidity.  The rest would also give my flaming red-hot rump a chance to cool down a bit before the long walk back home, of course, with a quick stop in the pharmacy for an extra large tube of anti-pain cream.

End of Part 2. Continue with Part 3.

© Copyright A.I.L. October 17, 2024

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Last updated: October 19, 2024