Allison - a Spaning Story

A lovely woman recently commented on one of my Perfect Beginning stories and shared that it seemed "self indulgent." The sky is blue. Never truer. Dear readers, I begin all this thinking about what I'd like to read. How could it be otherwise? When I say that I write this for you, the reader, I mean that as well. I assume you might like it as you have followed mutual interest tags to find my story.

Nonetheless, this is very self indulgent.

Don't look for anything realistic in this. Nothing about this is real. As much as it excites me, I'd not want to live the life of the protagonists. Any of them. This is some fucked up shit. I hope you enjoy it.

Bear with the preamble.

*

The following is an outline of how this society operates. The Perfect Beginning provides a slightly more comprehensive description of the universe.

* People are legal adults at 18 years of age.

* People usually live to about 2,000 years of age.

* The cultural norm has almost all legal adults living with their family of origin until they turn 200 years old.

* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 are treated as and referred to as children when they choose to continue living with their parents.

* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 often behave much as we would expect teenagers to behave here in our world. They are kept in a state of arrested emotional development.

* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 years customarily consume "blockers" which prevent them from having sexual feelings or impulses.

* Some young people will begin to "date" around 160 yers of age and while they are expected to continue to take their blockers, some will surreptitiously stop taking them while a few will stop responding to them.

* Age and masculinity are revered in this world. Everybody looks up to their elders and few seriously question the patriarchy.

All characters in the story are over 18 years of age.

It is customary for those below the age of 200 to demonstrate their status by wearing clothing which signify to others that they are off limits. They would wear what we would think of as children's clothing. Remember, an 18 year old and a 1,900 year old would look exactly the same age, so children's clothes are very useful for signaling to those over 200 years to abstain from any romantic or sexual pursuit of another who was deemed of an inappropriate age.

Lastly, sex is not technically illegal for people between the ages of 18 and 200 years. It is considered profoundly taboo. Adult-children (18+) do have sex but it is kept very quiet. Some parents punish their children for engaging in this sinful pleasure and adult-children almost never tell-on one another in this regard, even those who might not like one another. Adult children live by a code and violation of said code subjects one to complete ostracization. Almost none experiment until they are well over 160 years old.

*

"Hellen..." her tone revealed some degree of surprise, "hello." Carol communicated further puzzlement with her expression. "This is unexpected." She could not imagine a single reason why Hellen, a woman she'd not see in years, was standing at her front door. It took her only an instant to reappropriate her bearing and her grasp of decorum. "Would you like to come in?"

Helen entered looking tense and a bit disconcerted. "Carol," she dipped her chin, under the circumstances, the best she could do to acknowledge her hostess. "We have a lot to discuss."

Helen was clearly holding onto a great deal and seemed uncertain as to where to begin, though the same could not be said of Carol. "I'll get us some coffee. Back in a jiff."

*

The two settled down in the living room and after pleasantries, began a most intriguing conversation.

*

Peter was a changed man. He was a boy again, of course. His life was so strange and when he thought about all that had transpired, he felt a lightening bolt of dissonance that caused him to shudder. He could not help but to think all that had changed in his life, just happened to him. He felt himself as a victim. He knew he'd made choices, but it still did not add up. His life was the opposite of whatever vision he might have had about where he'd be at this point on his timeline.

He was a hypersexual and of course he did not choose this. These were the circumstances of his life, that which was beyond his control. He'd accepted this.

Yet he still could not fully accept that he lived the way he did. It was unacceptable! And little of it felt in his control. He was not even clear on how to describe his life, what it meant and how he felt about it, beyond confusion, uncertainty and dissonance.

Certainly there was pleasure. The pleasure he experienced was beyond his imagining. Yet it came at such an unacceptable cost. Was it unacceptable? Would he reverse it all with the push of a button?

Of course!

He responded to himself on the question with great certainty and indignation. How dare he frame his circumstances in the form of a question!

Of course I'd leave if I could! Fuck!

Every single day he experienced this unimaginable pleasure at the cost of physical, emotional and psychological pain that had broken his will. While he lived it, each day, for at least a few moments, he wondered how.

These special women had collard and leashed his soul.

Allison and Carol had easily and happily broken his will to assert himself or resist them, but this was another pain too great to look at. In the moment in which he questioned it all, he justified his choice to remain with them based on a belief that should he leave them, they'd ruin his life by publicly exposing what they'd done to him. This was what he told himself. They'd never explicitly said they'd do this, however.

He was not sure he was strong enough to simply push that button and that's what upset him so. For this reason, he could not actually face the unacceptable truth in this hypothetical question. He pretended the hypothetical was not really a question. With the push of a button, he could have it all back to the way it was. The truth of it was too painful to look at, but he knew the truth of it. After all, it was his soul that wore the harness.

There were forces at play which were far greater and more compelling than the humiliation of public exposure.

Of course he'd not push that button as the grip of addiction was far too powerful to resist.

*

Peter was in heaven. He was with Mommy and Mommy was so very good. Mommy loved him like nobody else in the world. Everything was about gentle love. There was love in her touch as she gently caressed his cheek. There was love in her warmth as he felt her lying next to him in the bed. There was sweet, loving intimacy in her tone as she whispered in his ear.

Love Mommy.

The boy was elevated to heights of love and desire he'd previously knew nothing about.

So pretty.

The tip of her pretty finger tip tranced oh so very gently along the length of his privates.

Her soft cooing voice held him in a state of rapt attention. She whispered the love into his ear.

"Love Mommy so much."

It was obviously the most right and just thought any person on earth could possibly have. It made perfect sense and provided him a sense other worldly tranquility. These word represented to him, idyllic beauty. These words represented perfect beauty. They were perfect words. With this crystal clear understanding, these sweet words, whispered into his ear became his words, his thoughts.

Love Mommy so much.

Looking at and feeling these words and everything they represented was a celebration of all that could be perfect in the world.

"Need Mommy."

Finger trace tickling his ridged cock.

I need Mommy. Need Mommy so badly!

A tear slipped out from his closed eye, ran his cheek and dropped to the sheet.

Mommy rejoiced with this.

*

Allison entered the kitchen where he did the dishes while he fanaticized that he'd leave all this if he could. "Peter, what is the meaning of this?"

He was startled out of his man fantasy.

She held forth a single white, cotton sock. "I found this, unpaired, in my sock drawer."

In a soft voice, "I'm sorry Ms. Allison. Please, if it's alright, I'll take it and once the other is cleaned, pair them and place them in your drawer. Please forgive me, I'm very sorry." He'd found that at times, a small display of groveling lightened Allison's mood.

He was working damage control. He already knew he'd be getting a "...very, very hot bottom," for this mistake.

Oh my god, I'm such a fucking idiot!

Allison would have been delighted had she known just then of his internal response. Changing the mindset was all part of the beautiful and fantastically stimulating process of breaking a boy.

This was the pivot point they looked for in his facial expression. This was all part of the process the ladies so enjoyed. At some point in the breaking of a boy's spirit, they saw it in his facial expression. At some point his internal dialogue turned from, "This is so unfair!" to, "I'm such a fucking idiot!" Of course they wanted him to blame himself for everything that might displease them. They sought his shame in all related issues.

Mother and daughter were pleased with their choice to keep Peter. Together they felt a sense of commitment in this. There was a healthy mental balance to it all such that there was no need to spend any great amount of time living in the future with it, but each was open to and actually hoped Peter would become their permanent boy. They'd not share this intention with him. Best to keep him uncertain. They'd found an insecure boy was more fun to control.

They mindfully nurtured the boy with insecurity.

They shared comfort and pleasure with their Peter, but they were first and foremost, emotional sadists. There was a great deal of pleasure in the maintenance of his emotional distress and self doubt. If he got too worked up over anything, a spanking, with appropriate after care, proved time and again, the most wondrous and pleasurable way to ground a boy. After care, of course, meant allowing him to suck them off. It was a perfect bonding ritual that brought everything back down to earth, save Peter's perpetually hard cock.

The bonding and validation was what Peter needed more than anything else in his life. The spankings were an ongoing challenge to the boy and created so much distress for him, yet he knew how important it all was for him. As difficult as spankings were, a part of him had accepted that they really were for his own good.

It was still relatively early in their relational dynamic, but already the phrase,

"This is for your own good," was burned into his psyche. He'd come to accept it as a fundamental truth. They were smarter than him and stronger than him. They were his caretakers. They were his authority. He naturally looked up to them. Adults knew best and boys had better listen.

Allison and Carol were strict and stringent task masters and one way they showed how much they cared about him was with the generous and consistent application of discipline.

They wanted to guide him, to help him be a better boy so he'd be suitable to their needs.

Other times they spanked him, not because he'd done anything wrong, but because they were in a "mood." In the moment, these spankings seemed so terribly unfair! It was very upsetting when after having made so much effort getting everything just right, doing every little thing he could imagine doing to cause them to be pleased with him, one of them would came home in a temper and announce his pending spanking. These were the most disregulating sorts of spankings only because he had no idea what was coming his way. Peter learned to always walk on eggshells.

Yet they'd helped him understand that these spankings were just as important as his discipline spankings because they put Allison or Carol in a much better mood.

Reassuringly, "Everyone plays a part, Peter. We all work to make sure this home functions in the most harmonious way. And that includes you, my lovely son."

Peter paid very close attention. Nothing was more valuable to him than the idea of being important to Allison and Mother

"Allison and I, for now at least, want to keep you. We need to know we can count on you."

Yes, yes, Mommy, you can count on me!

He was riveted.

Then his counter voice broke in reminding him of how scary those spankings were.

Peter wondered what was so harmonious about his tear splashed spankings.

It's at least a little bit not fair!

"What is your number one priority?"

"To make you and Ms. Allison happy, Mother."

"If Mother isn't happy..." One beautifully arched eyebrow raised along with the corners of her mouth. She was not just supremely confident, she was superior and he did not yet know that he loved that about her.

This was Carol's most authentic self. Moment's like these filled her heart with warmth and love for her boy. She knew herself best when with a warm, maternal tone, and purposefully condescending way, she managed his thinking. To her, these were foundational Mother and son moments. She had his full attention as she shaped his world view and his sense of himself. She defined his purpose.

He picked up and carried on as was her expectation. "If Mother is not happy, then nobody is happy." And of course nobody included, him, her little boy.

"And how about your babysitter, Ms. Allison?"

"It's the same thing, Mother. It's important that Ms. Allison always be happy."

"Good boy." She ruffled his hair.

When in full possession of his little boy mind set, this sort of "compliment" filled his heart with warm joy.

He stared into her eyes and felt his own welling with tears, so emotionally overwhelmed was the he. He was so grateful for her attention and so appreciative when she took the time to sit and talk with him, to help him.

Love Mommy so much! Love, love, love!

Continuing in a tone suitable for a seven year old, "So let's say your pretty babysitter has just come home from a very difficult day at school and she's in a terrible mood. Who knows why! It does not matter. Maybe there is a very good reason. Maybe not. Moods happen, little one.

"Does she deserve to be in a mood?"

"No... oh gosh no! And I'm not saying she..."

Mother raised her hand and he shut his cute, little mouth instantly.

"No she does not. So there is that lovely, beautiful, perfect, little girl in a terrible mood. It could go on all afternoon and into the night. I agree, she does not deserve that. And there is one thing you could do to support her. There is one little thing you could do to turn her frown upside down.

"You know what spanking does for that perfect girl. You know it will calm her down. We know well what spankies do to your little penis."

He hated that she said it that way but the truth was undeniable. He loved his spankies so very much. Spankings, on the other hand, not so much. Yet they always made his "little penis" hard as rock. It was the unsolvable puzzle that confused the boy.

"Do you really think you deserve to be the only one in a good mood?"

"No...no!"

"Of course not. So there is this one little thing you could do, something that obviously excites you... and who wouldn't be excited to please such a lovely, pretty girl?" she added reasonably. With just the hint of frustration mixed in with her warm, motherly tone, "Goodness gracious, it seems to me you should want to support the girl who does so much for you, who's always guiding you."

"Yes, Mother." His head was nodding in the affirmative. In the moment removed from an actual spanking, what she said made so much sense to him and his role, as simple as it was, seemed suddenly very important to him. "I do. I do want to support her, Mommy. I do, I do!

"I know I am being selfish. I'm sorry." And he was sorry. With this conversation, he saw things in a completely different light. They gave him so much and with Mother sharing so much love with him just then, he felt guilty and selfish.

He stared into her and she took in all his awestruck wonder and adoration. His love and devotion were all over his face. She was his Mother exalted. She was his Goddess.

His Mommy-Goddess!

Smiling, "Who's my good, little boy?"

"I am, Mommy." A tear of overwhelming joy trailed down his cheek.

With a sort of pouty faced smile, she enjoyed wiping the tear from his face. "Yes, you are Mommy's good, little boy."

She leaned in and gave her son a very sensual but chaste kiss over his needy lips.

She considered her schedule wondering if she had time to take him into her bedroom.

These conversations helped him greatly though they did not cure him of his fear of spankings.

In the moment of truth, these sorts of spankings continued to be terribly difficult for him, but it was impossible to miss just how much it brightened their dark moods.

As responsible adults and caretakers, they could be patient women and seemed to empathize with his struggle enough to indulge him in other like conversations. They seemed almost empathetic to his plight. In truth, they loved these conversations as they loved to guide him.

They adored doing this to him and loved him more as a consequence. The mother/child or babysitter/child conversations made him feel to them like he was more theirs. The connection helped the women feel more comfortably possessive of him. Perhaps not discussed, but in addition to being his Mother and babysitter, these women were his owners. All choices about his life belonged to them.

*

Long after one of these out of the blue, bad mood spangings was over, he might overhear a conversation between mother and daughter.

"Oh my goodness, Mother, today I came home in the worst mood!"

"I'm sorry, darling daughter. Whatever was the cause of your distress?"

"I can't actually say. It seemed in the moment, a lovely day. I got a 100 on my nano-robotics exam. I spent time with Vanessa and we had a delightful lunch together. The sky was ever so blue and the birds sang. I even wore my favorite dress. Yet on my way home, I felt my dark cloud come up on me."

"I'm afraid you got that from your mother, dear," said with lighthearted chagrin. "You seem in a fine mood now." She smiled her love for her pretty girl.

"Well of course I am now," she smiled brightly. With a mocking, poor-baby voice, "I'm afraid poor, little Peter was on the wrong end of that mood." She smiled with brilliant satisfaction.

Just the conversation was getting to Carrol and she knew she'd be taking Peter into her room at its conclusion. It was only the middle of the day and she'd already used him three times.

She marveled at how perfect was the arrangement.

This is why we have a boy.

Turning to Peter, Allison continued with the same joyous smile along with her poor-baby voice, "I'm sorry, Peter, that must have seemed so unfair to you. Poor boy had such a good cry." She continued to beam her joy.

She loved when he sucked her off while still crying. Often post spanking "thank yous" were her most urgent orgasms.

"Oh no, Miss Allison, it was not unfair. Not...not at all!" Peter felt the anxiety well with the retelling of it all. These spankings had quite an effect on him, after all. Propelled by this anxiety, he meant to mollify any and all guilt Allison might be holding onto, "I'm glad you did it... I mean, I...I..."

He stopped himself and took a deep breath. He was with her and she accepted him and that was all that mattered in the world. In that moment, her face was radiantly joyful and his love for her settled him. He needed to breathe. He heard Carol's voice in his head, "Simmer down, young man."

In a much calmer voice, "Ms. Allison, I'm grateful to be able to be here when you are in a mood. Very grateful! I appreciate that you share your moods with me. Please, please, always do that."