APPLIED PSYCHOLOGY: A Practical Guide to the Teenage Year P2

Author: Writer8322@aol.com

Time really flies when you¹re having fun  it really stops moving when someone is creaming your ass.

I don't know how long I had been lying across the mighty thighs of the gargantuan Dr. Nelson, but it was long enough so that my rear end was partly numb and partly electrified.   Every wallop of the doc's massive palm shook my whole central nervous system.   I had been bawling steadily for at least the last hundred wops and Dr. Nelson wasn't even breathing hard.

Somewhere in my frantic brain, in between the time it was screaming in agony, I wondered if the doc was a robot  a machine with a piston arm that would just keep whacking my ass even after I dropped dead.

For the first fifty spanks I had kicked like crazy, but my leg muscles were paralyzed from the spanking and just hung down helplessly.

I didn't know I could cry anymore, hadn¹t cried in years, but I was crying now.  The tears flowed non stop from my eyes, snot ran out of my nose and I think I was drooling too.

"AaaaaAAAaaaaaAAAA!"  I bawled mindlessly, as the giant psychiatrist whammed the holy shit out of my butt.

Sometimes, as he was thrashing me, he would talk.   His voice, despite the hand action, was always calm somehow.   Calm and........fatherly.

"I don't like spanking you, Stuart," the voice said.

WHAM!   CRACK!  WHACK!

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooow!!"

"But you have to learn your proper place."

WHACK!  WHACK!  CRACK!

"Oooooow, cut it out!   Pleeeeeeeeeeease!"

"...and your proper place is right here, on  daddy¹s lap."

WHAM!  WHACK!  WHAM!

"Ooooooh, Dr. Nelson (sob), no more!"

Doctor Nelson stopped for a moment and eased his hold on my head.   I immediately rolled off his lap and screamed as my ruined ass hit the floor with a thud.   I ran for the door and pulled at the knob, but it was locked.  SHIT!

I turned to look at the doctor, and he was sitting there calmly pokin his pipe with some metal thing.   He shook the burned out tobacco into his palm, got up and dropped the ashes into a wastebasket under the desk.  Then he sat down again and started refilling his pipe.

"You know, Stuart," he said, "I've worked with lots of troubled young boys, but you're  special."

I didn't feel so special dancing from foot to foot and  clutching my damaged rear end.   I kept looking for some place to run, but there was only the closet. 

"The list of scrapes that you've gotten yourself into is really impressive," Doctor Nelson said pressing the tobacco down with a giant thumb, "and it only shows what can happen when a youngster doesn't recieve the discipline he needs so badly."

Doctor Nelson put the pipe back into his mouth and lit it up again.  

"When was the last time your father did his duty?"

I knew what Doctor Nelson was talking about, but I wasn't about to answer him.  Bad move!

Doctor Nelson blew a smoke ring (nice trick) into the air.   He shook his head and got up from his seat.   "And here I thought that you were a very bright lad," he said.   He walked over to the bureau and reached on top.   His fist closed around the biggest fucking hairbrush I had ever seen.  It was highly polished so that the damn thing actually shone when he waved it around.   It was at least six inches across and eight inches long  it didn't look normal.

Doctor Nelson patted the hairbrush against the open palm of his other hand.  "You know, Stuart, there is nothing like a hairbrush, firmly applied to a young man's backside by an experienced dad, to bring out the twinkle in his eye...the dad's eye of course."  Doctor Nelson grinned.   

I looked around in a frenzy.  No way I was going to let this maniac set to work on my massacred rear end with that lethal weapon.  I climbed up on the bed and put my back to the wall.   It was then that I realized that the front of my hospital gown was sticking up.  Shit!   I had a boner!   Well, no wonder, with my cock mashed against Gargantua's knee and rubbin' around while he pounded my tail.

Doctor Nelson sat in his chair, he beckoned with a finger.  "Come to dad, son," he said, "an hour or two with my little helper and you'll be a new boy."

"Hey, come on, Doctor Nelson," I said wildly.   "You¹re gonna kill me.   Honest man, I can't take any more.   You probably damaged some nerves back there or something."

Doctor Nelson flashed more enamel.   "Typical boy," he said jovially.  "Anything to avoid punishment.   I'm a professional spanker, Stuart, I know exactly what your little fanny can take and son, it can take a helluva lot more!"

Doctor Nelson lunged from the chair and I pitched forward.   He spun around (what was he a fucking built out Chuck Norris) and caught me in midflight.  He had me under one arm, hanging there, kicking like a colt, while he calmly walked back to his chair.

Then he dropped me on his lap again and used the flat of his right hand, in the small of my back to pin me like a butterfly to velvet.

I cried and begged and kicked and bawled, but doctor Norris only said, "Time for your next therapy sesson, son," and lifted the hairbrush over his head.

(to be continued)