πŸ“š allison - a spaning story Part 13 of 15
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Allison A Spanking Story Pt 13

Allison A Spanking Story Pt 13

by imberlygirl
19 min read
4.75 (5200 views)
adultfiction
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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.

*

"I'm afraid, dear friend, you have my son."

Carol had never looked so undignified. It was terrible and so far beyond preposterous.

Of all people!

She burst out laughing.

*

Hellen had a Mother's duty to look after her boy. Peter was a mess and she knew there was a girl at the heart of it all.

Goodness gracious, what ever is the world coming to? How can a boy become so undone by just a girl?

Certainly Hellen knew how it was possible, she just could not imagine her own son becoming apart of anything so unusual.

*

For a short while, Hellen became a regular at the local, library, Girls on Top support group. Once or twice a week she attended and always sat next to Carol. They got so they saved seats for one another.

It all began with the Samantha Wagner meeting. It was at that meeting, while sitting next to one another, they each realized, independently, that they wanted for themselves what Samantha had created, a relationship with her son. That was to say, they knew they wanted a relationship with their own boys.

Certainly for Hellen, there was great disconcert in the realization. The desire had been there all along, but so sublimated was it, that in the moment of clarity, the moment Samantha called her pretty son, Johnny to the dais, Hellen's own desire, with absolute clarity and undeniable certainty, sprung from within.

Prior to this monumental meeting, the mere thought of Samantha Wagner suggested trouble. So upset was she by what she knew about Samantha, she almost skipped the meeting altogether. Samantha's reputation proceeded her. She was friends with Donna Lanza and knew Donna's daughter, Michelle. She was bit of a celebrity in this small circle. Looking like a movie star only added to her bigger than life, extravagant image.

Hellen's breath was taken from her with this realization and was not even aware that with sudden shock. she grasped the thigh of the woman next to her, her pretty acquaintance, Carol. At this point, the two women began a strange friendship. Each shared with the other just how impressed they were by Samantha. They inched their way ahead, but eventually disclosed just how much they related to her. Once out, they developed an instant affinity.

*

Once they'd broken the ice, Hellen and Carol grew closer. Often they'd meet for a coffee, take in a meeting and then go out to dinner. They navigated an odd sort of relationship in which they enjoyed sharing deeply personal thoughts and feelings about their past and present lives, while maintaining their anonymity. Neither knew the other's last name nor where the other lived.

Each woman strongly related to the principals laid out by their favorite author, Michele Lanza while each also felt the powerful draw of a what they thought of as a "Mother Knows Best" relationship with their respective boys. There was an incredible amount of excitement in the telling such that even Carol drew down her protective walls while sharing unfiltered emotion with her new friend Hellen.

Before long, Carol shared that she'd left her marriage and had begun dominating and sexualizing her son. Hellen was beyond captivated and felt deeply envious. She wanted to follow Carol's example.

It was after this very disclosure that the women first slept together. While perhaps more cosmopolitan than her new lover, Carol had never slept with a woman before. Hellen had done so several times when she attended a local, post 200 sex academy.

The young, lady students within the sex academy were strongly encouraged to sleep with one another as it was believed it was generally enjoyed by select men who might want to watch their girlfriends or future wives have sex with another pretty woman and or begin enjoying threesomes. Women, it was espoused, were designed by nature to satiate all of her man's sexual appetites. Ironically, Hellen found the most pleasurable and satisfying sex was with the other female students.

It was at this point Hellen began to question the current male dominant world order.

*

The women became very passionate with one another. Sadly it did not last.

*

Hellen was set to follow Carol's lead. She used Sleepy Head on Peter. Sleepy Head was sometimes referred to as a date rape drug, though she found that reference distasteful and inappropriate as what she was doing with Peter was ultimately, she was sure, for his own good.

Several times she slipped him the drug before joining him in his bedroom to begin his training. She began by handling him intimately while whispering in his ear about what kind of relationship the two would soon enjoy.

Abruptly, Hellen lost her nerve and aborted her plan. What she planned was, for a naturally conservative woman, too counter-culture and too daunting.

She carried on with confliction and regret. Her greatest pleasure and her deepest regret came from watching her beautiful boy play with his penis, a penis she felt in her bones should belong to her.

Though she projected as a warm, caring and gentle woman, Hellen was a strong woman and with her ultimate decision, turned her thoughts away from Carol. Despite her resolve, she found she could not completely get her former lover out of her mind. Every once and a while she'd find herself wondering about what could have been.

*

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As this began, Pete wondered if he'd survive. Would there be an end-date on all this craziness and if so, would he emerge a man. Looking back at it, he knew it would have been easier if he'd just disintegrated and had forgotten his former self. Life as Peter, with no memory of Pete would have been so much easier. Certainly Pete retreated, yet on unexpected occasions, he showed himself.

It was his tone and direct manner of speaking that drew attention. It was his presumption that he possessed a valuable insight that the women reacted to. He worked on it but in doing so, worked against decades of conditioning.

Spanking after spanking had taught Peter that he was to be ever mindful of his place in the home. He was not just expected to be submissive. Submission was merely a starting point but by itself, not nearly enough for the caring women in his life. How he carried himself mattered. He was to be soft and gentle in all things, much like what was expected of a proper girl. He was to be diminutive almost to the point of not taking up space. He was to be demure in all things. He was expected to be sensitive to where the women were mentally and emotionally such that when their focus was elsewhere, he was to be seen but not heard. He was allowed to speak up but did so only when it seemed safe and he did so at his own risk.

Peter was a hypersexual and he discovered a link between his sex drive and his submissive baring. His release was limited by the guiding and benevolent female hands in his life and he found that when his cock was hard, it was easy to be a submissive boy. As a hypersexual who was denied adequate release, his cock was erect almost all the time, even when the women were not home, he walked about with an erection. He became practiced enough to ignore it though it seemed to influence his nature.

The women liked and expected to see him perpetually hard. It was a visual indicator of his state, a state they kept him in. He was a kept boy, after all. Too, they liked to see evidence of his attraction to them and all they did to him.

The women were not even aware of their own sudden irritation experienced upon returning home, encountering their boy and not seeing a big, hard submissive penis bulging from his crotch waiting to meet them.

Without thought, this irritation was used to bully the boy into a state of arousal. It did not take much.

He knew he'd earned a spanking when he lost track of his tone and direct baring. It did sometimes seem as though he'd "earned" a spanking for reasons that had nothing to do with him. Time and again, he was bent over her knee and spanked to tears by the most alluring, amazing and loving women.

"When ever will you learn, young man?"

*

"I'm sorry, darling boy, but what have we said about opinions?" Carol prompted.

It's not fair!

She was so gentle and relaxed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He was in the grip of a way too common emotional reaction. He did not know at whom it was directed. Yet by the end of the spanking, it was always clear to him who was to blame.

"I'm...I'm not to have them. I'm sorry, Mother."

If he could placate her, convince her he understood the problem, knew full well he was inappropriate and he got lucky, he might escape a consequence. Lucky was often a product of timing. If she was very busy, she might let it go.

It was clear to Peter they enjoyed spanking him.

*

"Of course we enjoy spanking you, Mr. Silly Head." replied Allison showing her surprise and delight. Her effervesces convinced him she was 13 and he'd completely internalized the babysitter/little boy dynamic which defined their relationship.

Ever so gently and with mindful care, he ventured further. "I'm curious, Miss Allison, why? I...I mean, I'm glad you do. I mean, I'm glad you enjoy it. I am. I guess I just want to know why? I just want to feel closer to you is all."

He'd learned that he needed to present his questions in a manner that in no way hinted at, or could be misconstrued as a question of her authority. It was completely understood that she was entitled to spank him at her discretion, whenever she wanted and for whatever reason, or no reason at all.

Despite these precautions, he sometimes got spanked anyway if he happened to catch her in the wrong mood.

She looked down at him as he knelt before her. She gave him her smirking pouty face look before smiling. She leaned down and gave him a brief, gentle and sensuous kiss. "You are so in love with your babysitter."

She looked once more into the vanity mirror.

"More than anybody on Earth, Ms. Allison."

She took this fundamental and powerful truth with pleasure. The smirk played on her lips. Continuing to look at herself, "Tell me, do you think I'm pretty?"

"Oh my god, Ms. Allison, yes! You are by far the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life Not even close!" He could see her pleasure in her expression as she admired herself and reached further. "I think you are the prettiest girl in the whole world. I mean it."

She knew he did.

"Prettier than Mother?"

He was prepared for this. "Mother is as pretty as any woman I've ever seen, but that's different. She's a woman and your a girl."

This pleased Allison and she admired her own smile in the mirror.

"What's my prettiest feature?"

"I just want to stare at you. Like, I could look at your face all day long."

She appreciated him doing just this thing every day. She smiled on. She found she enjoyed looking at herself as he spoke of her beauty as it seemed to inspire a sense of heightened prettiness. "And my body?"

"It's perfect."

She knew this to be his truth as he worshiped her blessed body every single day.

"Yes, yes, but what's my best feature? Focus on my body."

"I really do think everything is perfect. I love how thin and tall you are. Love your long. flat tummy and your little hips..."

This she enjoyed as she was prone to a bit of confliction. She loved her body as it matched her self perception and matched her little girl image. She sometimes wondered if she should be a bit curvier, like most other young ladies.

No, I should be just who I am.

"...I love your skin and how you smell. I adore your long, thin legs. Your hair is so pretty. I bet all the other girls are so jealous. I love your hard, pretty little chest. I can't not look at them and I want to kiss them all the time. Like, always. And I love when you don't wear a bra. But I think my very favorite feature of yours is..."

My ass.

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"...your pretty, little girl bottom."

Here were all the curves she'd ever need. Though not big, her bottom was quite pronounced on her little hips and thin, muscular legs. In a display of outright, complimentary envy, a couple friends told her she had a Dora Croft butt. Dora Croft was a kick ass, adventure video game character who had the impossibly perfect ass.

"Yes, it is pretty." Allison broke necks all day long and she loved her ass. "You like to kiss it, don't you?"

Losing his breath, "Yes...yes, Ms. Allison, very much."

"Why?"

"Well, because it is so pretty. When I do it, I don't know, I guess I just feel so good. It's like the ultimate sexy thing to enjoy. And it makes me feel close to you. I love feeling close to you."

"Of course you do. And it just feels right to you, doesn't it?"

It was hard not to acknowledge the implications in this. "Yes." It was hard not to experience a bit of shame with this pleasure.

A man was not supposed to kiss anybody's ass, least of all a girl's. Yet his mouth on her asshole felt righter than right.

It completes me.

Brushing her hair and continuing to admire herself in the mirror, "Little boy is in love with his pretty babysitter and can't help but kiss my ass all day long." Just then she took her eyes from the mirror and locked eyes with him. With a knowing smile, "Are you my little kiss-ass? Does big, strong Pete like to get down on his knees and kiss my pretty, little ass? Just hoping in his little-boy heart to somehow please me?"

He'd do anything to please her but he wished she did not remind him that he should not want to. Him wanting this was very "wrong." Awash in shame, while needing to look down, "Yes, Ms. Allison."

Back to the mirror, "And when you do, you feel closer to me. That's why I enjoy spanking your little boy bottom so very much. I love making you a good boy and when I do, I always feel closer to you." Affecting her cutesy, baby voice, "Seeing your cute, little tears while you're bent over my knee is so pretty. The sight and sound of a crying boy is the sign of a good boy. That's when I feel closer to you. I like making you my good boy." Don't you like being my good boy?"

"Yes, Ms. Allison. Very much."

"Of course you do.

"It's why I let you thank me afterward."

She almost always had him go down on her after making him cry.

Looking down at him again, "Who wants to be my good boy?"

"I do, always, Ms. Allison," he replied eagerly.

"Would you like to kiss my pretty bottom now?"

"Yes, Ms. Allison, please? May I, pretty please?"

She smiled, stood and drew down her tiny shorts. She lay tummy down on her bed. He needed no further prompting and he lay down with his face at her bottom. In this position, with her bottom as "flat" as it could be, it popped up high and proud. He admired her tiny waist and pigtails before refocusing on the most succulent ass he'd ever laid eyes on.

He was ashamed to need this so badly but grateful nonetheless.

It never failed to take his breath away, so perfect was it to him. She expected reverence so he kissed her cheeks reverently. He kissed slowly and gently as he traced the globes of her muscular ass with his fingertips.

She enjoyed the sensation of the trace-tickling. She enjoyed a slow work up.

Eventually, he venture into her deep cleft. He did not ever venture in by spreading her cheeks. He did not want to distort the flawless symmetry of her physique. Instead, he merely wedged his face into her bottom, worming his way in. Only then would he sometimes spread her ass with his hands as he lapped at her perfect butthole. More often, he discovered a strange contentment while nearly smothering in her buns and was more apt to push them together as he worshiped her nether region.

Not only did Allison love the sensation of having her ass worshipped, and it was divine, it was the symbolism that meant so much to her. In her questioning of him about this, she greatly valued his shame at wanting to do this for her. Surely it was just as meaningful to him as it was to her and this aroused her greatly.

Allison was a vain girl and had several mirrors placed strategically in her room. Like her mother, she was highly visual. She liked not just the sensation, but she liked the objective view of many of the unusual things they shared. She loved watching herself spank a boy. It always stirred her arousal. Too, she liked to see herself be worshipped almost as much as she liked feeling it. Seeing it completed the experience for her.

Am his little-girl goddess.

She admired her beauty and liked what arousal did to her features. She liked the perfect vision of his face buried deeply in her ass.

Where it belongs. Now that's the dedication we are looking fore. Worship. Good boy.

She felt prettier and prettier with every passing moment. She was an arrogant girl and felt absolutely worthy of worship.

This is what pretty girls deserve.

Making out with Allison's bottom was a highpoint in his life and he was so grateful to get to do this often.

Eventually, her bottom was hot, wet and sweaty and he was lost to it. He'd lick, slurp and munch on her butthole until the end of time. Though he never wanted it to end, he loved when she came from it and experienced a profound, yet tempered pride in this accomplishment. He played a part in pleasing the girl he was madly in love with.

Her fingers clenched down on her bedspread. It was coming. "Suck!"

He put his wide open mouth over her tight asshole and while he gently sucked, used the flat of his tongue to gyrate circles over her perfect lips.

"Good.......boy!"

Allison came and he was elevated.

"Oh god, that's my good boy!"

*

After sharing her story, Carol reached over and put her hand on Hellen's forearm, "I understand."

"I was just so scared!"

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