This story is fiction and deals with a recovering spankaholic including spanking and behavior modification which certainly is not factual.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This story is an expanded version of my SSC2007 story "Spankaholic".  A tip of the hat to Kris who suggested the character's initial action which led to the continuation.  The first part of the story is somewhat enhanced since I don't have to keep to a five hundred word limit now.

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.

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Spankaholic (Expanded)

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

"My name is Pete and I … am … a … spank…a…holic.  I failed this week.  I've relapsed.  I've had a spanking!"

Pete was addressing the Tuesday meeting of SA, Spankers Anonymous.  He had been attending the weekly meetings regularly for almost a year.  This was the first time that he had shared any recidivism.  He was clearly upset at the need to.

"Would you tell us about it please, Pete?" suggested Terry, the facilitator, in his usual gentle manner.

"Last Friday was an ordinary day at work.  I was going home when it happened.  I first saw him heading into the subway.  I should have waited but he had the most beautiful butt in tight jeans; I had to watch it.  I had promised myself that I would only look.  It was so beautiful.  It was so spankable.  Unfortunately, it got worse at the turnstile.  His fare card failed so he got caught by the bar as he was rushing and did not stop.  His top half kept going so he bent over and he flaunted the most spankable ass I had seen in days.  I should have turned and run away but … I …  I was weak."

There were murmurs of disapproval throughout the group.© YLeeCoyote

"I managed NOT to give him a spank even though I was right behind him.  It was very difficult.  I slapped the turnstile instead.  I know I shouldn't be physical but at least I did not hit that perfect butt.  I regained control and rushed through the next turnstile without looking back.  It was extra crowded because the train was late. I was pushed into the car and couldn't move.  A minute later we were stopped in the tunnel on a crossover.  Only the emergency lights were on in my car as we waited.

"You came close but you were doing OK." interjected Terry being encouraging, as always.  The others agreed.

"'You're one of them.' whispered a voice in my ear.  I turned my head and couldn't believe that it was the young man; my left shoulder was bumping his chest; my back was against the door.  I could not move even an inch for there was someone in front of me and a wall to my right.  'You're a spankaholic!' he sneered.  I broke into a cold sweat.  I'm sure he could see me turn pale in the dim light.  Was he fuzz?  He laughed evilly in my ear.  Then I felt his hand; it was between my butt and the door where no one could see.  He had it curved and pressed up against my butt.  I was trapped.  I couldn't move.  I didn't dare yell for he would denounce me.  He could not really swing his hand so he pressed hard and backed off.  'You're wishing that I would SPANK you hard; really hard, boy.'  My heart was racing as we pulled into the next station.  I thought that I would run away when the door opened."

"'COME WITH ME!' he commanded as the door opened."

"I could not resist him.  I obeyed.  I was scared to and even scareder [sic] not to.  He led me to a dark alley a couple of blocks away like I was a puppy on a leash.  In the back of the alley, hidden from the street, he sat on a box and pulled me over his lap.  He was an expert.  He got one of my arms in a hammerlock.  His spanking hand was as hard as a paddle.  He was strong.  Even through my trousers his spanks hurt.  He made me cry.  Just a young man of eighteen.  He did not even take my pants down."

The usual quiet group was abuzz with sounds of disapproval.  The unfortunate Pete was practically raped was the consensus.  This horror could happen to any one of them.  But they were all ears to hear the rest of this horror story.  Many hearts were on overdrive.

"He pushed me off his lap.  I was afraid of what he would do.  He dropped a business card.  It had a picture of a well-spanked butt and a phone number: I-SPANK-U.  He disappeared as I studied the card; mesmerized by the picture and even the glow from that spanking.  I stayed until I stopped crying.  Eventually, I found the subway and continued home.  My butt hurt for days.  Shamefully, I felt so great.  The worst part is I can't get him out of my mind.  I try to be pure but every night I'm driven to pick up my slipper and whack my tail – fantasizing that it is he doing it – before I can sleep."

"Terrible." said a member of the group.

"Shameful." added another.

"Help me.  Please help me.  Please stop me from calling I-SPANK-U."

Pete remained standing.  He was practically crying for just one little encounter had set him back more than a year in his own mind.

The group was flabbergasted by this horrid report.  Kris grabs the card from him and, after looking at it, makes like he is crushing it and covertly sticks it into his pocket.  "That was just terribly awful, Pete.  But it was not your fault.  You were practically raped."  Several other members expressed similar opinions although they really could not help much after this traumatic experience.  Pete, they all feel, just needs some time to come to terms for he really does want to kick the habit.

The meeting had been going for more than an hour and it was time to break for refreshments.  Kris had, as he usually did, stayed at a distance.  He was new to the group for this was only his third meeting.  Nobody paid attention that he was using his cell phone.

At the refreshment table, Pete looked at Walter, who had helped him in the past, sorrowfully and asked:  "But how I can I forget?  Forget him, that spanking and that insidious phone number?"

Everyone in the room knew that they had the same problem.  The number was unforgettable.  How terribly easy it would be to slip when alone and knowing what one was missing.  Especially when reaching for the phone to call a buddy for help.

Then there came a somewhat mechanical voice.  "THANK YOU FOR CALLING I-SPANK-U."  All are startled by the very loud intrusion but especially Kris.  "WE ARE SORRY THAT WE ARE NOT HERE TO TAKE YOUR IMPORTANT CALL.  PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AT THE TONE AND PRESS-5 TO LEAVE A CALL BACK NUMBER. <BEEP>"  Besides several gasps the only other sound in the room is the crash of Kris' cell phone hitting the floor.  All are terribly shocked; not only did Kris slip but it was during an SA meeting.  The errant lad is immediately the center of attention.  He falls back onto a chair and hides his face in his hands, as though he is thoroughly ashamed of himself for he realizes that he is caught in flagrante delicto by the entire group.

He does not know what to say.  He guesses that there is not anything to say.  Kris thinks that he should bolt but he can't for he is surrounded, like a fallen novice in a cloister by others praying over him.  But they are not praying but scolding him.  One after another until they start over again.  He does not hear the facilitator say: "He needs immediate emergency treatment."  Nor does he hear the closet being opened and the apparatus being dragged into the center of the room.  Kris is picked up.  Many hands are grasping at him; his jeans are opened and yanked down; his shorts are also yanked down; he is dragged over the apparatus.  He is strapped down on it.  He yells for mercy. But in his heart he knows that he does not deserve any mercy for he has sinned greatly and publicly by the standards of this group.

Anywhere else, Kris would have been elated at being in this position. Especially if his lover was the one holding the spanking strap.  The strap that would be raised over and over again so as to crash down on his upraised naughty ass.  The strap that would turn his bottom into a flaming inferno of pain/pleasure.  The strap that would turn his tail scarlet red.  The strap that would make him scream in ecstasy before his lover plunged his hard rampant shaft deep into his hot hole.

But that is not what is going to happen to Kris this day.  Electrodes are stuck to his nether regions.  "You want to be spanked, Kris?" asks Terry.  All are quiet listening for the response.

"Oh, Yes.  Please."  Kris is enthusiastic for he expects that he will be spanked and ejected.

Terry presses the button.  Kris knows that he is not being spanked; not even with a heavy paddle wielded by a very strong and large monster for his body is racked with pain sans pleasure.  He SCREAMS!  Not only does he lose his erection but his organ shrinks in fear.

The question is repeated – twelve times although the button is only pushed nine times – until he yells: "NO!  NEVER!"  Kris is drenched in sweat when they help him up, very shaken.

The next morning Kris awakes from a wonderful dream; one of his regular ones.  A dream of being taken by a pirate and spanked.  The wonderful phone mnemonic dances in his head.  He grabs his phone and starts to dial for his lover is away.

Kris drops the phone and screams.  The pain is intense but there is not anyone else with him.  He thinks about his lover giving him a loving play spanking and again he screams.  He thinks about a birthday spanking when he was eleven and he screams.

Kris knows that his life is ruined.  He had gone to the meetings under false colors for the thrill of hearing of real life spankings.  He had not expected to get "cured"; much less forcefully.  He cries for hours.

The next day, Pete is again on his way home from work.  He is still aggravated by the encounter he had with the I-SPANK-U guy.  He has been very careful not to get near that fabulous assed man with the hard hands.  That he is bumped and jostled in the rush hour crowd does not bother him as it is normal.  It is later in the evening, when he is emptying his pockets, that he encounters a business card.  It is the back that he sees first: "You know that you want more.  Or that you want to get even."  Quickly he turns it over and sees that it is from I-SPANK-U.

He drops it like it is a hot potato.  "They are stalking me!" he yells to himself.  A few minutes later he is calling.  After he explains, the I-SPANK-U representative asks him for the code on the card.  The rep is surprised and gives him a name and number.

Pete immediately makes the call.  He recognizes the voice of the beautiful butt man who answers.  He realizes that he does not know what to say.  Fortunately, the other does.  "Hi, Pete; I'm Mike."  Pete just breathes so Mike continues.  "Well, do you know if you need another spanking … or … want to get even?"

"YES!" growls Pete.  All thoughts he had about SA are gone now.  All he can think of is a hot red butt.  It not clear whether it is his or Mike's in his mind's eye.

"Your pad or mine?"

"Yours.  What's your address?"

A quarter hour later Pete is ringing Mike's bell.  "Come on in."  Mike can see that Pete is out for payback and leads him to his playroom.  "I'm sure that you'll find what you need in there." he says pointing to the cabinet.

Pete opens it, smiles broadly as he decides what to use.  "Drop, 'em and get over that." he says, pointing to a spanking bench with the heavy paddle he selected.

"Yes, SIR." snaps Mike as he complies (a smile on his face).  Mike pulls off his T-shirt, kicks off his sneakers and removes his jeans.  He gets into position on the bench with his ass thrust up.

Pete watches and then gets into position.  He can see that Mike's gluts are as hard as his hand and he knows that he can swing hard. CRACK!  There is little deflection as the paddle connects but the target turns pink.  Pete continues his assault.  Mike takes it quietly although his checks are crimson by the tenth and last pop.

"Done." he announces.

"Thank you, sir."says Mike as he stands up and faces Pete.  "You swing a mean paddle."  He rubs his ass.

Pete chuckles.  "You spank hard – with just your hand."  He strips as Mike watches.  "I've been obsessed with you since that time in the train and alley."

Mike sits on the couch and pulls Pete over his lap.  "This time it will be even better."  He caresses the target and then starts very gently with baby spanks until Pete's tail turns a gentle pink.  Mike takes his time, building up the intensity until Pete is definitely uncomfortable and tries to stop him.  It is the wrong move for Mike grabs his wrist, gets it behind his back and increases the spanking intensity to a new high.  Pete knows that Mike is totally in control and, just like in the alley, the tears are building up. «I shouldn't cry.» Pete thinks to himself, «But I will.» As the hard spanks rain down, Pete yields and cries.  It is a relief.  He feels satisfied.

They rest together for a bit and as Mike dresses, Pete asks: "How about next Tuesday?"

"You'll miss your SA meeting." grins Mike.

"FUCK the meeting!" retorts Pete.  "I'm quitting SA."

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., August 21, 2007

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