Allison A Spanking Story Pt 02

Note to reader: What I value so much in femdom erotica is the idea of discovery. Additionally, I enjoy seeing the discovery as a process. On the one hand, notions, preconceptions of and about self, are being stripped away while on the other hand, one partner is helping the other to a new understanding of themselves, the world they live in and their place in it.

A spanking between adults is a beautiful thing.

One partner dominating the other is lovely.

People who desire this and have it in their lives are fortunate.

Perhaps at some point in the future, I will find an angle on a story of this nature that I find interesting enough to share. This is not that story.

It's the emotional awakening that I find intriguing. The twining of sexual desire with dissonance is what I find fascinating as that was part of my awakening as a sexual being.

*

Look to the preface of Allison Pt 1 for a more comprehensive qualifier on the world in which this story takes place. For an even more complete synopsis, look to The Perfect Beginning Chapter 1.

*

Her 'tis abbreviated:

All characters in this story are WAY over 18 years of age. People in this world typically live to approximately 2,000 years. Many live with their parents and are dependent upon them until 200 years of age. Almost all young people consume "blockers" which prevent them from experiencing sexual desire. This is a population control measure that people live by. It is legal to have sex once 18 years of age, but it is extremely rare for anybody to forego their blockers. Some secretly elect to drop them once over 160 or so, but most remain on them until 200. A very, very few discover that their blockers just stop work at a certain age. These people are called hypersexuals and even when they remain on the blockers, have extraordinary sexual energy.

One of our heroes, Peter, is just such a person.

*

Pete was not really freaking out.

It was more like he was troubled, he was that. Disquieted. That too. He felt what he could only think of as cracks in the foundation of all he thought he knew about himself as it related to his identity juxtaposed to women or girls. And he was mostly not freaking out. He did certainly feel the shiver run his spine. Every once and a while, his eyes went large and his breathing shallowed. Tension. Yes, tension too was all part of it.

As Pete contemplated all that was consuming his life, at this critical juncture, there were two sides of his internal conversation. There was the half he could think about and there was the other half of the conversation he necessarily kept in the shadows. There was too much danger in these thoughts.

His very first thought was that he could never see her again. For a short while he believed it a fate completed. Of course it was much stickier than that. For starters, he was becoming obsessed with her.

Certinaly he knew he should not be.

Fuck that! Outta there.

That thought flew out and away and never came back.

"What the fuck!" immediately replaced "Fuck that!" and it became a common refrain and the bullet he shot himself with with frequent regularity. There had to be something wrong with him as he pondered the feasibility of the impossible. He found himself occupying the middle space of right/wrong, up/down or big/small. There was impossibility in all this. Perhaps he/she would be the occupation he most related to and most dreaded.

For one hundred fifty something years, Pete had maintained proper Ascendant values which held masculinity as the rightfully dominant sex in the sexual hierarchy. His place was at the apex, at the top. This was right and good. It had to be as all one had to do was to look around and see that almost every other developed country operated with the same dynamic.

Men decided. Men acted. Most importantly, in relation to women and girls, men guided. And women liked it this way. He believed that women actually needed it this way. This was the obvious nature of things. This was the clean and easy outlook on the matter and there was ample evidence to support this world view. He greatly valued how clean and easy the principles were to internalize and live by because he liked it that way. He was part of a privileged class. He was certain that everybody preferred it this way and that their society thrived in part because of these guiding principles. He truly believed that women loved their place beneath men.

In his mind, this was all natural and right. Had he been born a woman, he'd want it to be this way too. Yet he knew he could not have been born a woman, because nature meant for him to be on top.

He was aware that there was some emergent but small, radical counter culture movement that wanted to invert the hierarchy. He was certain that those who espoused notions of equality were insane. Beyond that, he, along with so many others, knew it was some misguided plot developed by some unhinged women, to actually subjugate men. He'd internalized enough commentary on the matter to feel well informed and certain in his outlook.

And then Allison.

What the fuck!

She'd spanked him.

I let her.

The big question was: why? Certainly he had to look at why he let her, but there was a far more ominous why? Why did he want her to? Yes, it was a pressing question yet there was disturbance to be found beyond this question. Far more disturbing still was: why did he like it so much? Why was he obsessed with her and what she'd done?

What the fuck!

It would have been nice if he could convince himself it meant nothing. It would have been convenient and comforting if he could believe they had been playing a silly game, which was what he half convinced himself was the case when he bent over her knee in the first place.

He did not know how he got himself to the place where he'd allow any of this to happen. He told her he'd play her silly spanking game when they were making out, but at the time, did he believe it himself? There was dissonance in this question. He knew he wanted to go over her knee. He did not want to examine the nature of any of this.

*

When Allison was very young, her mother Carol asked her directly, "Do you want o spend the rest of your many days rationalizing how men are stronger, smarter, more deserving and basically better than women? Are boys better than you, Allison?"

"No. And no." She beamed her dazzling smile.

"Darling, I'd like for you to consider going off your blockers."

Allison was taken aback. She was not surprised to learn her mother had her own ideas, but what she was proposing was radical.

"I'd like you to read this." She put the book on Allison's desk. Girls on Top While Chaste, commonly referred to as GOT, written by the "subversive" authors, Michele Lanza and Krista Lucas.

"Michele Lanza shared ideas in this book that spoke to a secret me. There was a side of myself that I kept hidden and tried not to know. Forgive me for sounding so new-agey, but that's the way I feel about it, sweetheart. I suppose it was the side of myself that could not be married to your father any longer.

"I suspect she will speak to you in a voice you might relate to. When you are finished, I'd like your thoughts."

Within a week, Alison dropped her blockers. She never looked back on that brief period of her life.

*

Then there was her age. She was not too young to suck his dick. One hundred twenty something was taboo, but not a crime. And it was to be one and done, gone daddy gone. Allison was to be put on a trophy self.

He'd seen it several times in his mind. Her pretty face sucking his dick. What he most looked forward to was her furtive uncertainty as she assumed the position on her knees before him. Pete enjoyed this uncertainty he'd seen in all the girls that gave themselves to his desire. They'd never done it before and wanted to get it right so as to please him.

As it should be.

Pete especially looked forward to seeing this uncertainty on Allison's face because in their short time together, he found that hidden within this good girl was an unexpected self-surety. He did not realized that it subtly undermined his own sense of confidence. Pete wanted to restore the natural balance. He could read Allison's mind: Is this how you do it? Am I doing it right? Yes, little Allison, just keep sucking. Afterward, there might be a runnel of cum dripping from her chin.

Then, good bye.

Next.

Instead, he got a spanking.

Once home, he enjoyed the peace of mind born of the certainty that he'd never see Allison again in any meaningful way. Not really certainty. Perhaps certainty for the time it took him to say to himself, "Fuck that! Outta there." Too, peace of mind seemed a bit overstated. Even as he said "Outta there," it felt as though it had all the authenticity of a sales pitch.

Emotionally, he transitioned, in the course of twenty minutes from self assured comfort all the way to dread. If that. Even as he severed the connection, even as he said to himself, "Fuck that!" he heard the uncertainty mixed in with the masculine bravado.

The problem was the bone aching desire, the sense of mind bending want he felt as he thought about Allison. And he could not stop thinking about her. For god's sake, she spanked him. He was honest with himself in this consideration. He'd submitted to a spanking while bent over that pretty girl's knee. Had it been the joke he'd wanted it to be, it would have been nothing. Had it been a joke, he could even tell his buddies about it and they'd all have laughed, high fives all around. It would have been an act of shining irony. He could not escape the truth any longer: he wanted that spanking the moment she mentioned it the day before.

What the fuck! Why?

He did not really want to know why. The answer to that question was in the other half of the conversation, the half he could not look at. The why would need to remain in the shadows.

And it was a strong want, an unsettlingly strong want. What bothered him so much now was that he was seeing it as something beyond want.

*

Carol liked who she was. What she took from Lanza's books, above all else was self acceptance. All Lanza really espoused was that everybody should live an authentic life and live free of societal constraint and judgment. Yet she was as aware as anybody else about the world around her and the societal expectations of her role as a wife and mother, as a woman. She began going to underground support groups. She found her community and with it, greater validation and assurance in her pursuit and maintenance of self acceptance.

They literally met underground in the basement of the local library where they would discuss their "subversive" leanings. Karen Jennings, the librarian was one of them. Carol loved the solidarity she found in these meetings.

One thing she found she appreciated about her sisters was how ordinary they all seemed. They all lived in a suburb so most of the women were housewives like herself. There were some professionals too, but they all seemed so normal. This realization made her smile with relief and caused her to wonder what she was really expecting them all to look like.

Leather and whips? Really, Carol?

Her comfort stemmed from the idea that they all blended in. And she blended in with them. It was clear to her then that others could not just look at her and know she was different.

We're just a bunch of pretty housewives.

While they were mostly just moms, they were way more interesting than that.

They all talked about the books and there were so many interesting topics. They had guest speakers that always intrigued. They had open sharing in which women reflected on challenges and success in their shared desire to live more authentic lives.

It was a women's only meeting. They did bring in some men and some couples who enjoyed their collective outlook on sex/gender dynamics. These guest speakers shared their stories with the group.

Carol especially appreciated hearing from the couples. She felt a certain pride while watching a sister openly display her dominance over a boy. It wasn't just that it assured her that this was in fact what she wanted for herself; there was something about it that just felt so fundamentally right and good about it all.

So pretty. And look at him! He knows. He knows this is good for him too! Lovely.

It was all so invigorating and Carol loved it.

Pretty.

It was nice to hear stories and outlooks from some of the boys themselves. She did not just appreciate learning of their struggles, she liked that they struggled. The women like herself had struggled against the patriarchy their whole lives.

She was most pleased to realize that the boys actually had a great deal more challenge in this regard. What they were into was subversive; however, with power came some degree of respect, however grudgingly it was given. Many women gained a great deal of comfort in who they were and they ventured forth unapologetically. Women who wore their dominant inclinations were gaining some ground, some acceptance.

However controversial Michele Lanza was, she made herself into a world famous billionaire, and the face of an entire social movement. She made clear in her writings that society looked up to the victors. And to the victors go the spoils. She wasn't wrong.

Boys, it turned out, had it much harder. Nobody liked, respected or valued a panty-waist. Not many, at least.

Carol did not need fame or recognition. She needed a divorce.

Carol benefitted by another stroke of luck. She lived in the same town Michele Lanza grew up in. One evening, Michele's mother Donna came to their meeting to share. What Donna shared brought everything into clarity for Carol.

After she and her husband split, she went about persuing her desire. She began molsesting her eldest child, her son Eliot.

*

How could he want her? He still thought of her as Little Ms. Goodie-Two-Shoes. She was "nice" and preppy and almost nerdy. She was all sunshine and pig-tails. Allison was nothing at all like the naughty bikini model type he lusted for. Yet was she nice? Did nice girls spank boys. And she wanted to spank him.

Was it a turn on for her or was she just playing the way he pretended to play along? He had to accept that for her, the whole thing might just have been a joke. For her, it might all have been a game in which the "little girl" spanked the naughty neighbor boy.

Yet she had that look. There was something about how she looked at him, an expression that he found so alluring, so captivating. He'd seen that look before and it was too troubling to consider.

*

Once Harry was out of their lives, Carol began dominating her son. She found that it was remarkably easy to pervert his desires just as young Ms. Lanza said it would be. She took him off his blockers and conditioned him. It was incredibly exciting and deliciously fun.

She positively loved spanking him.

Like Donna, Carol wanted to take a much more active role in her son's life. She sought a much more intimate relationship with her son. She felt certain she could be her true self with Eliot and she gained the confidence that she could sufficiently influence and nurture a different side of him. She greatly enjoyed turning him into a momma's boy.

*

The dread seeped in when he felt the desire was actually more than desire. He began obsessing over Allison and what she'd done to him. He realized what he was feeling was need.

But that's what girls feel! Girls are needy!

Yet he could not escape it.

*

Allison dropped her blockers and quietly buried her Good Girl Manual in their back yard. She was still a good girl. Allison loved being a good girl. She was, in an odd way, a very conservative girl. Despite her mother's leanings, she viewed her mother as conservative too. A great deal of being a good girl was about appearance, temperament and projection. She especially enjoyed projecting as a good girl because it was comfortable, but she also realized it gave her an advantage with boys and men. She liked being nice.

She also realized she wanted boys to be nice also. She wanted other things from boys too.

Her prefernce was for boys to be nice. She wanted a gentle boy. She found she was very, very much attracted to nice, gentle boys who were obedient.

Her mother taught her about true pleasure. Carol taught Allison just how enjoyable it was to dominate Eliot. The two forced Allison's older brother into the role of submissive house boy who was used for domestic duties and sexual pleasure.

Allison preferred a good, obedient boy, of that, there was absolute certainty.

Obedient boys are good boys.

Yet Allison also discovered that like her mother, she was a natural disciplinarian.

As the complete good girl, she considered herself an expert on the matter and maintained high expectations for her good boy.

The women were simply mad about spanking Eliot. While there was no intercourse, a great deal of physical pleasure was enjoyed by the ladies.

Despite this, Allison still felt very much in touch with her sense of being a good, conservative girl. She especially enjoyed projecting an image of purity and goodness. And she knew that despite the fact that she was doing things others did not do or understand, she felt genuinely good and pure. Nobody presented more in the way of wholesome, good, nice, prim, innocent purity than Allison.

Allison knew she was a very pretty girl. She greatly valued her lovely dimples as they transformed her beauty into the most disarming vision of wholesome purity.

*

It was the cumming. He came over her lap as she spanked him.

Twice.

He knew he should not have done that.

But the way she spanked me, made me!

What the fuck!

He should never have done that because it sent to Allison an entirely wrong message about who he was.

Mistake.

Pete was deeply invested in the belief that he had at the very least, some choice in this. Or, it was Allison's fault because of the way she spanked him.

Yet he had done it. He'd done it, he'd cum in his pants while being spanked and even if she misunderstood what all that meant, it did not matter. He'd done it and she saw it. She knew what he'd done and thought he was a boy or something weird. He did cum in his pants like a little boy. She now knew this about him. This is where the dread lived. In this, the shiver ran his spine, his breath shallowed and for a pulse, his eyes flared.

The cumming was horrid. It was beyond horrid. Beyond cumming over her knee, beyond horrid, was that he cried.

I fucking cried! Right in fucking front of her! What the fuck!

Why the fuck did I cry?

This was so troubling to him. It was not as though he was a "cryer" if there was such a thing. Crying was not a normal thing for Pete so he was caught completely off guard when he did so while being spanked. He remembered with crystal clarity the sensation of overwhelming emotion as she spanked and scolded him. Certainly the sensation of her abusing his balls had something to do with it, but as much as it hurt when he did at last cum, that alone was not why he cried.

He remembered feeling a profound sense of powerlessness that was so paralyzing, he could barely breathe. And he was terrified. He was terrified by what they were doing and what it did to him. He was terrified of the barely considered significance of what they were doing and realizing there was some ritualistic aspect of this spanking that signified a much deeper meaning than he could ever have anticipated.

He was emotionally overwhelmed and rendered utterly powerless once she had him over her knee. And with this spanking underway, there was the dawning realization of need. Under the pretense of a game, she'd rendered him impotent, made him cry and made him cum. He felt his sense of masculine dignity disintegrating in equal measure to a mounting sense of need, need for Allison.