📚 allison - a spaning story Part 14 of 15
allison-a-spanking-story-pt-14
ADULT BDSM

Allison A Spanking Story Pt 14

Allison A Spanking Story Pt 14

by imberlygirl
19 min read
4.5 (4300 views)
adultfiction
🎧

Audio Coming Soon

Audio being prepared

--:--
🔇 Not Available
Check Back Soon

This story takes place in the Perfect Beginning Universe. It makes brief mention of Michele's work.

The terms, "boy(s)" and "girl(s)" are used to refer to characters over the ages of 18 years. All characters featured herein are well beyond the threshold of legal age for sex.

For me, first time is always the most exciting. Compounding the excitement is the anxiety experienced when at least one character realizes that they are not the person they thought they were.

This story takes place in a very male dominant society, one which is even more patriarchal than our own. Pete comes to realize that as he falls under Allison's spell, he does not measure up to societal expectations. These two young people are discovering and becoming as they grow together as a couple.

Psychological conflict and tension are central themes in this story.

*

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.

*

Pete never completely cease to exist. He remained alive, in the barest sense, in Little Peter's memory. Peter remembered living as Pete and, perhaps most poignantly, he remembered clearly his expectations of manhood.

He was close enough to attaining it all that he'd formulated clear and reasonable expectations of that life. He'd have a hot girlfriend and perhaps later, a wife. He was not sure how common it was, but there was a romanticized notion that a lot of guys kept side-girls. Pete was good looking and he knew he'd want that too. Since he was a hypersexual, he'd assured himself he would not be cheating on is future girlfriend, he'd be doing her a favor. He'd prefabricated this rationalization for all future infidelities.

He'd always thought of girls as being so needy and this suited him as he expected to be fucking girls on the regular. He'd have what they needed: man cock and masculine validation. If he let her know she was pretty enough to be chosen, she'd be riding a win. He prepared himself with this sort of anticipatory thinking.

Little Peter never lived up to this expectation and the loving women in his life saw to it that he never would. Even if somehow he'd lost touch with all these clear memories, he'd still live in shame.

The adults conditioned Little Peter to respond sexually to shame.

*

Peter was almost perpetually erect. Most of the day, he walked about with a hardon. The women preferred he wear clothing that highlighted his embarrassing state. They appreciated what it represented and that it attracted attention from any who happened to share company with the boy.

Occasionally, his penis became flaccid. Now was such a time.

"Is somebody getting a little attitude?" There was pleasure in her accusatory question. Hellen was flexing. She might as well have asked him if he was getting a stiffiy.

"No, Mother!" he hoped his urgent response was not too loud. The women made it clear that he was not ever permitted to raise his voice.

She appreciated his anxious and timid reaction.

He's so much better this way.

Peter's penis immediately reacted to his Mother's dog whistle growing to full erection as she looked on.

Shaking her head in pretend disbelief, not trying to hide her pleasure, "Goodness, gracious, young man! What am I going to do with you?" This was all part of Hellen's theatre. She relished the domestic drama as much as Allison enjoyed at playing Peter's babysitter.

Peter lived in accordance to many rules and strict adherence was always expected; discipline was seldom neglected.

Yet he did have an attitude.

Not really!

Yet he knew he had.

A little bit...but not really.

Carol and Hellen were taking a weekend jaunt to wine country. They'd tour about, shop, and spend a couple nights at a spa. He looked forward to unadulterated family time with his two Mommies. He'd have no chores and he was sure there would be lots of affectionate play. He adored snuggling in bed with his mother's as they watched a nighttime show. Little boy would get lots of playful spankies and when they were not making love, they'd use him. It would be fun and carefree.

At the last minute, they decided to leave him at home.

Ordinarily, this would be a tolerable outcome as he'd be babysat by Allison. Unfortunately, she and Vanessa were likewise taking off for the weekend. He'd be alone.

When left alone, he'd become "intimate" with his "needy girlfriend." His needy girlfriend was a cock cage. His mom came up with the name as she remembered clearly how her former son, Pete, always got off on porn featuring actresses who projected as the horniest little girls. Needy was Pete's descriptor. On numerous occasions he'd shared this condescending opinion of women and it always grated on her. A "needy girlfriend" just seemed funny to her.

Hellen was always so sweet and loving when she locked him up in this horrid contraption. Considering their boy wore a perpetual hardon, they were kind enough to not insist on coupling it with the optional spikes, yet that did not mean it would be comfortable. He'd get no stimulation at all and his erection would be forcefully bent down in submission. Too, Hellen never failed to fit him with the model that allowed her to provide him with electric shocks to his "little boy penis" and "little boy balls."

Hellen found many random occasions for remotely shocking his little boy parts and enjoyed doing it often. Her favorite time to give him a nice long, sustained shock, however, was when Carol was making her cum.

This was now his weekend. He'd merely allowed the hint of disappointment to cloud his features. It had been fleeting, only lasting two or three seconds, but it had been on his face.

📖 Related Adult Bdsm Magazines

Explore premium magazines in this category

View All →

I did not do it on purpose!

He did not dare say this.

It's not fair!

This would be an even more damning utterance.

"How many times have I told you: we will not tolerate discourteousness in this household," she said while almost masking her pleasure. "We have raised you to know better. Little boys will not be allowed to throw little boy temper tantrums."

She'd not administered a real punishment spanking in weeks as Peter was a well trained, good, little boy.

They all enjoyed spankies with regular frequency. The boy lived with three dominant and highly sexual women such that there were days when he was on the receiving end of three or four spankies. There were a few rainy days when he got it quite a lot more. Spankies were the preferred form of foreplay.

While it might be seen as mere fun and games, spankies were important to these women and administration was purpose driven. Spankies did not do what a real spanking did but they were deemed to be a vital and necessary aspect of a well run household. They were a form or symbolic discipline. Every single time a woman bent a boy over her knee, it sent a message. In this way, he was reminded that he was a little boy and he was beneath them. Men did not get spankings; little boys did, however. The women wielded power that he was subject to. And in this playful way, they made him want to be in this fundamentally diminished and inferior role.

Almost always the first ten to fifteen or so were delivered with intentional force. For this, they used a wooden hairbrush. It always burned. This served as a sort of attitude maintenance.

After that, the hairbrush was often put down and it all became a much more gentle and playful spanking that both enjoyed fully. Barehand spanks were often interspersed with lots of tender touching, and tickling. He was her little boy. She'd be spanking his arched up, pink bottom and he'd gently squirm over her knee and in the softest, sexiest voice, "Please...no, Mommy! Hurts so bad! I'll be a good, little boy! I promise! Please, please stop!" If it was his loving babysitter, the pleas were directed instead to Ms. Allison. Despite what he said, he did not want it to stop. And it would not stop. All of them were content with the assurance it would go on for hundreds more years.

This was lovemaking and profoundly pleasurable to the whole family. And it proved very effective at keeping their boy in his place beneath them.

There were times he was on the wrong end of a bad mood. One of the ladies, usually Carol or Allison might come home harboring some irritation and often, under these circumstances, the first thing they wanted to do was to put their little boy over their knee. This was the very healthiest way to work out a mood. He often prayed nobody else would come home that same day feeling likewise. A real spanking was traumatic.

Other times, he earned a punishment spanking.

On this day, he knew full well that he expressed his disappointment at the disappointing news and there was no denying it. Knowing he earned it did not make it any easier.

But it was not a temper tantrum!

He knew she was studying his expression and was certain his features expressed earnest worry and concern as worry and concern were his focus. In a home where he could be spanked at the drop of a hat, worry and concern were always nearby.

Beaming, "You've just earned yourself an appointment with the paddle, young man." She liked to say paddle, but it was always a hairbrush. "Meet me in my room and you know what to do." He was to be holding her hairbrush.

He stood waiting at the foot of the bed, holding the hairbrush as required. Hellen walked in wearing her baby-blue, white polka-dot, cotton, house dress, hair perfectly quaffed and met him with a smile. Hiking her skirt, she sat before him looking more than self satisfied. She dropped his shorts, smiled at his panty sheathed erection and then lowered his undies.

She reached out and tickled his penis. "There's Mommy's little soldier. Such an excitable, little guy."

His cock bobbed, involuntarily, three times and he felt that dull pain snake up into his lower abdomen. He was a hypersexual, used frequently by three different women for their sexual gratification but he was denied. His little boy balls always felt so swollen and the feeling of blue balls, that pain in his gut haunted him almost always.

The women adored keeping him in a heightened emotional state. The overly emotional woman was a trope many, even openly submissive women, found tiring. They discovered that denying a hypersexual caused poor, little Peter to nearly vibrate with desire and inspired feelings of immense self doubt, general uncertainty, skittishness and caused him to be easily provoked to tears.

Often was heard something like, "Oh my god, you are so emotional!" He had no response to this. The worst was, "Oh my god, are you crying again?" She projected so much distain but he could not help how he felt. Just as terrible was "Don't you dare start crying again! You are so manipulative!" This always made him cry despite all efforts to hold it in. For the women, it was just sporting about, making the home more fun.

Probably Allison was the most vicious with these provocative exclamations. "God, you are such a teary-faced, little girl!" They all did it to him, though they differed in style, and they enjoyed it greatly.

Carol could not count the number of times while moving about the house, she'd overheard some like commentary and found herself smiling as she went on with her task. This was the home they wanted.

It became impossible to deny that he very much resembled that insecure, needy girl he once thought all women actually were.

Outside of sexual engagement, it took incredible discipline just to function. His sexual desire helped him focus on Her pleasure and this became a point of tempered pride for the boy.

As she watched his cock bobbing involuntarily, "Ah, ah, ah, don't you dare," she smiled. "If you have an oopsie-daisy...I don't even want to think about the consequences."

He'd been through this so many times and it was still so belittling. At these times, he actually felt himself becoming little. He knew they were right, he was just a boy.

Mother was so captivating and even when frightened, his cock was rock hard for her. This brightened her mood, every single time. Her son was lost to her power and sexual magmatism and she relished every bit of it. This was what she'd always wanted and she had nothing but gratitude.

Thank you, God.

Looking him right in the eye, looking as pretty as ever and wearing the warmest, most genuine smile, "Let's get Mommy's little boy a good, warm spanking, shall we?" She said this as thought it was the treat he had been waiting for, like a plate chocolate-chip cookies and a glass of milk.

He knew it would not be little. She was going to punish him.

She looked like she was about to gently laugh while she enjoyed bouncing a toddler over her knee. Even when it was real punishment, if she did not feel otherwise, she let all her joy and pleasure show.

Hellen loved her son and she adored getting to mother him. She so valued getting to guide him in this intimate way and never took it for granted. Every spanking was an opportunity to love and guide her son and every spanking was sacred to her. The cumulative sanctity aroused her like nothing else.

"Here we go now, over Mother's knee."

She spread her legs expecting him to go over her left knee. As he assumed the position, he felt her drape her right leg over the backs of his knees.

Mother had toned legs, as did all the women in this home, and the head of his achingly hard cock pushed into the muscular, creamy, soft skin of her inner thigh.

He could feel the tears welling. "I'm...I'm sorry, Mommy!"

"I know, Precious. I know you are. Mommy's going to see to it that you are just a little bit more sorry, okay, Darling? Let's get you that spanking," as though offering reassurance.

Not even looking in the mirror, he could hear her pleasure and see her smile in his mind's eye.

The actual spanking had not begun and he was already crying, "Yes, Mommy."

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

That was the part he liked unequivocally. It burned, but it burned good, somehow. He wanted to push his bottom up to her but he would do no such thing as he knew what came next. Next would be hell from above.

Hellen was very aroused and it made her so happy. Continuing with that sweetly engaging tone throughout the spanking, "Now listen carefully, young man."

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

🛍️ Featured Products

Premium apparel and accessories

Shop All →

"You knoooooow the rules," said teasingly.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

There was no teasing in the spanks.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

"There we go, that's our cute, pink, little bottom!"

At this point, it was too much. His mind turned to madness. He'd thought it simply "has to stop," so many times over the course of already dozens and dozens of spankings over a relatively short period of months that he could hear it fade like a clear but fast fading echo of a thought. It was this way every single time.

It would not stop; it would go on.

"We will tolerate no temper tantrums, do I make myself clear, young man?"

The thing Peter had come to understand since he began being spanked by Allison, the love of his life, was that no matter what he might have thought before the spanking began, once it started, it very well might be that none of that mattered in the least. The only truth was what she said. In that moment, his disciplinarian's words defined his reality and became his only truth. During a spanking, there was nothing he would not agree to.

Simply put, the women would have it no other way. SHE was the word of God. Afterward, he'd pray to her.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

This began when inadvertently, he'd for two to three seconds, displayed an expression what amounted to hurt feelings. This was deemed a "temper tantrum." Previously, he knew this to be absurd. Yet now, while receiving a serious bottom burning, he knew everything she said was right and just. What he'd done was unforgivable to himself. Of course Mother was right and he needed to do better. He knew he deserved the spanking yet desperately wanted it to stop.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

"I'm sorry, Mommy!" he said with restrained urgency.

It had to stop.

"I know, Honey. And that really does make Mommy feel much better."

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

"Much better."

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

Her warm, affectionate voice assured him of her love while at once seeming so incongruent with his trauma.

"Owww, Mommy, Mommy!

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

"Does that burn your bottom, Honey?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Mommy!"

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

"Mmmmm. Really burns or just sorta burns?"

She asked for the pleasure of it.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

"Really burns!"

"Yesssssssss, lovely," she said breathlessly. "You keep feeling that burning for Mommy, okay, little boy?"

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

Again, Hellen found the exchange pleasurable and fun.

Oh my god, please STOP!

It would not stop. It would stop only after it had gone on forever.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

Hellen smiled her love down upon her wonderful little boy.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

Making no effort to contain his crying, "Please, please, Mommy! I'm sorry," he blathered.

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK

She rubbed his bottom, savoring the heat. There was just something magical about enjoying the heat rising off her son's freshly baked muffins while feeling his cock on her leg all to the joyous soundtrack of his crying. She knew how this must hurt her dear boy and it filled her mother's heart with love. Hellen enjoyed a little orgasm.

He tried desperately not to know that within seconds she'd take her soothing and protective hand from his bottom. The gentle stroke was his momentary sanctuary, his reprieve from madness.

Enjoyed this story?

Rate it and discover more like it

You Might Also Like