Fantastic F/M Spanking Story: ‘The B.A.C.O.N. Project’

Readers,


Three cheers for this imaginative ‘I Broke my New Year’s Resolution’ spanking story contest entry (with some tiny editing for naughtiness). Get ready to laugh, sweat, and learn a valuable lesson..


– Dana

He stared at the little ad and wondered what it could possibly mean: “Need to lose a few pounds quickly?” it read. He glanced down at his bulging tummy, which was large enough to hide his favorite body part from view, and continued reading. “Attractive female college professor seeking males who have lost their willpower, but not those unwanted pounds, to participate in a special project”. Hmm, I like the attractive female part of it he thought. And if she’s a college prof she may even have a brain, lol. “Interested? Call (543) 772-6533.” 

He put the paper down and went straight to the refrigerator. That’s it! A giant Dagwood! 15 minutes later he had constructed the most humongous creation in the new Deli world, loaded with 5 varieties of meats, 3 of fowl, chopped liver, bacon, 4 cheeses, onions, lettuce, mustard and, most importantly, at least a half cup of mayonnaise dripping from every orifice!! He smiled and winked at his masterful, sinful creation. A couple drops of saliva somehow snuck out and hit the plate. 

“Wait a second honey, I don’t want you to be all alone, especially with a hot stud like me!” He opened the cupboard and weighed his options (instead of himself). Fritos? Nah, not oily enough. Chips? Too ordinary. And just then, as if it was an out-of-body (more like out-of-mind) experience, the obese, 3-pound jar of Cheese Doodles beckoned. Of course!

But what can I wash this down with — it needs lubrication! Chocolate shake? No I’m gonna hit the Haagen-Daz for dessert. He took the one-liter stein out and placed it in the freezer. The sub was oozing irresistibly now; he couldn’t say no. 

He tried to grab the sandwich but it wasn’t going down without a fight. Finally, his efforts paid off and he got a grip on things. He wrestled the monster hero, or at least part of it, into his mouth for chomp #1. Quite a lot of the fixings didn’t quite reach their intended destination but this only increased his lascivious pleasure. He chewed, gulped and wiped the residual scraps on his shirt sleeve. This act was repeated a number of times, interspersed with cheek-expanding handfuls of the doodle thingies (lest we forget).

BELCH! “Ah, life is good!” he said to himself. The beer mug readied, he filled it to the brim and thought how much he loved head. 

Some time, lotsa hoagie and suds later, he went into the smallest room of his house to relieve himself from some of his extreme gluttony. He looked into the mirror, a slightly cloudy vision, and studied. Ok, I think that’s enough, maybe I’ll be a good boy and skip the ice cream.

**********************************
When he awoke, he felt awful. A hangover, not just the beer, but a food hangover. He went into the bathroom, carefully avoiding the scale. But the mirror was relentless. He felt really bad, like he had just lost a big fight.

The ad was still on his night stand, so he read it again. He tried to dial the number of few times but wimped before the last digit. Back to the bathroom. Summoning some courage he called, hoping to get an answering machine. A slightly sleepy, very sultry voice answered, “Hello?”.

“Um, er.. I saw your ad in.. the paper?” he said.

“Is this call in response to my notice of the research project and weight loss program,” inquired the very sexy voice.

“Um, yes. I’d like to participate, maybe take off a couple of excess pounds [cough].

“Very well. Please understand that this is a research study and that you will be required to meet certain criteria, which will be agreed upon in writing at the time of your participation. Is that quite clear, young man?”

“Why yes, certainly!” (Anything for science).

“Ok, please report to 1540 Smartsville Lane at 11am this morning, and be prompt!”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

He hung up the phone, feeling excited but somewhat apprehensive. “..certain critera.. agreed upon in writing..”  Probably just some legal shmeagle requirement.

He showered, shaved, threw on some cologne and dressed in his sportiest, sexiest outfit. “Young, college professor..” I hope she’s a knockout, and maybe I’ll even get laid, if she can see beyond the excess poundage..


(Make sure to click ‘Read More’ below to finish the story.   – Dana)

11am, on the dot, he showed. He knocked, and she opened the door. Wearing high heels, a leather miniskirt and a fluffy white blouse showing luscious creamy cleavage, she introduced herself, “I’m Professor LeKane, won’t you please come in”? Completely overwhelmed, he stumbled in and followed, her magnetic rump at the lead.

She grabbed a clipboard off the table and flipped several pages. “Your name?”, she asked. “Nate,” he replied. “Hmm, interesting name,” she responded. “Well, one of my girlfriends nicked me ‘Red’ and somehow or other that stuck too. You can call me whatever you like,” he said with a grin. “Now, Nate, as we discussed,” she said, “here is our agreement. I would suggest that you read it care..” “Oh I’m certain that everything is in order,” he interrupted. Grabbing the clipboard he scribbled on the dotted line and handed it back to her, emphasizing his arrogance with a syrupy wink. 

“Very well then,” she sighed. “Kindly remove your clothing.” Wow, this is getting more promising by the second, he thought. He stripped down to his shorts and threw his clothes on the floor. Ms. LeKane cleared her throat and, trying to control her temper said, “Would you mind putting those on the chair?”. “Sure, babe” came the response, as he placed the items on the chair. “And the boxer shorts” she queried, snapping her fingers. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, with some sarcasm and a repeat of that silly wink. He removed his boxer shorts.

Clipboard in hand, she circled him, studying his body carefully. It made him feel rather uncomfortable, like a piece of meat. She pointed to a scale over in the corner. Damn, he thought, it’s the old-fashioned kind, with the weights and the balance thingy — you can’t shift your weight around to get a fake read. Reluctantly, he went over to the scale and she followed him, clipboard at the ready. He hesitated, and she responded with a crisp slap on his left cheek, which, surprisingly, stung a lot. Taken aback, he stepped up onto the scale. She moved the weights around and he prayed, but to no avail. Wow, who would have thought a Dagwood could add 6 pounds? She noted his weight carefully and then pointed at some sort of exercycle — it looked a bit different, more elaborate, than any he had seen before. Knowing that she was in an “all-business” mode, he stepped off the scale and obediently marched to the bike gizmo. For some reason, he felt some pangs of fear. That slap on his left cheek, which he was still feeling,  seemed to have a more serious intention.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Red. Now kindly position yourself on this equipment by placing your feet on these pedals and your hands on the grips,” she instructed. He complied with her request. Seeing that his hands and feet were in proper position, she pressed a button on the remote control she held. Suddenly, metal restraint devices locked him into position — he was helpless! “Hey, what the hell is this all about?” he said, in a slightly panicky voice”

“Perhaps next time you will take a moment to read what you sign,” she said, with a mischievous little grin. “Let me start up the machine and, if you will give me your full cooperation, which includes always addressing me as “Ms. LeKane,” I’ll try and brief you during the process. Keep in mind that, in the interest of science, I must stay fully focused on this experiment, which I have been devoting my life to for over 6 months now, and that therefore, I can’t engage in idle banter. Is this understood?” She started up the machine and his legs started moving; they didn’t really have any choice.

“Um.. er..  I guess so,” he said compliantly.

“Yes, Ms. LeKane,” she inquired?

“Yes, Ms. LeKane,” he mimicked.

“Very well. Before I begin the first phase of my procedure, which I must conduct without interruption, allow me to tell you the good news.” She turned up the machine a bit now and his legs actually had to do some work. “You will be receiving $50 cash at the end of this session. It’s part of my grant allocation. Oh, I almost forgot,” she exclaimed. 

“What, you forgot to get me out of this thing?” he said in a somewhat harsh voice.

“Red.. Nate.. or however you envision your identity,:” she said in exasperation, “please do not say things to anger me. I’m conducting scientific research and can NOT respond in anger.”

“Sorry,” he blurted sheepishly.

“Sorry, Ms. LeKane?” came her response.

“Sorry, Ms. LeKane,” he submitted.

She went over to some stereo equipment. The exercycle kept Nate’s legs moving, his bottom cheeks shifting from side to side, while Ms. LeKane put on some soft music. It sounded like one of those classical composers, maybe Bach? Then she opened up the cabinet. 

My oh my! Nate glanced over and his mouth fell wide open. Hairbrushes, paddles, crops, whips, straps and a number of items that he couldn’t identify. 

She grabbed her trusty clipboard again, came over to Nate, and turned the machine up another notch. Nate was breathing harder now and she made a note of that. Then she positioned herself alongside him and started slapping his bum cheeks, in rhythm to the music. Left, right, left right… she was catching each cheek as it relaxed, and Nate began feeling the effects immediately. “Ouch!” he declared. But the slapping, or its intensity, didn’t stop. “That hurts, Ms. LeKane,” but she continued.. left, right, left.. Just when it got to the point where he was really beginning to wonder if he could take any more she stopped, and made some more notes. 

He began to wonder what he had gotten himself into. Those weren’t love pats. It certainly seemed that this wasn’t the first time this woman had delivered a spanking. “Wow, you hit awfully hard.. for a girl,” he said. Ms. LeKane ignored the remark and kept penciling away on that damn clipboard. Another 50 spanks followed. He winced, squirmed and complained but the nasty slaps just continued to irritate his buttocks. Another respite while she jotted away. He felt so embarrassed, helplessly in bondage on this weird machine, being spanked hard by this gorgeous woman and reduced to a naughty, naughty boy, with an ass that was burning.

“Ok, we’re done?” he asked. No response.

She turned the machine up a little higher and delivered another volley of stingers. He wasn’t counting any more. Some tears began welling up as he tried to remain stoic. Suddenly, she turned off the machine. It’s over, thank God, he thought. More scribbling. She examined his tushy carefully, kneading it like dough, patting it, massaging it, doing who knows what with her hands and fingernails.

“The first portion of my experiment is completed,” announced Ms. LeKane. Noticing that he was sweating, and breathing heavily, she said, “I’ll get you a glass of water.” Marching out of the room, his eyes again glued to that magnetic buttocks, he sighed with some relief. She had left the clipboard within plain view and he glanced at it. At the top, it read:

 “THE BACON PROJECT:

 Behavioral Application, Conditioning and Ontological Neoscience.” 

He had no idea what that meant. Scanning some of the verbiage he noticed references to Pavlov, B.F. Skinner, and other names with which he was unfamiliar. Ms. LeKane came back into the room with a glass of ice water. She released one of his hands from its metal restraint and handed him the water. It tasted very good, and his sore bottom appreciated the respite. Noting that the metal restraints had caused some slight bruising she went over to the cabinet and took out some soft leather cuffs and rope  She toweled off some of his sweat and then secured his free hand with the leather cuff and rope, right back on that dreaded machine. She did the same with his other hand, made some notes and said, “Ok Mr. Red, we’re ready for Part 2.”

********************************
She turned on the machine, cranking it a little higher and making Nate move more than he had in about a decade. He felt embarrassed about his fatty flesh bouncing around, especially his rear end. Ms. LeKane made more notes and waltzed over to the cabinet. When she returned she had two whips, one looked like a riding crop, not really for horses, with a nasty loop on the end, and the other, some sort of buggy whip.

“I’m going to take this machine up to your maximum safety level and encourage you to move with this crop of mine.” She swished it thru the air 3 or 4 times. Nate cringed. The machine was cranked up. The music she had put on had a dance like rhythm and the swishes coincided with it. Now they landed, left.. right.. left.. right.. After about 15 seconds he began pleading, “please Ms. LeKane, you’re really hurting me!” But she ignored his pleas, concentrating on covering every square inch of the area of his buttocks, from the “sit spot” to the area where it meets the thigh. She continued relentlessly, for two minutes (glancing at her watch) and then stopped. He was begging now. “Please, please Ms. LeKane, does this experiment have to hurt so much?”

She slowed the machine to a walking pace and stood right in front of him. “When you read the agreement you signed,” she stated calmly, “you will see that you have empowered me to inflict pain levels necessary for this project. The contract includes that I must not do anything to cause any permanent damage, and that evidence of what I do shall not be apparent by the time you have your next session, should you choose to do so. And the good news, is that you will be paid $100 cash for that 2nd session. Are we clear, Mr. Red Nate?”

“Yeah, I guess so..” he said. 

“Ok. Now I could use a little respite and you could probably use one also.” That said, she went over to the CDs and popped on Led Zepp’s “Black Dog”. Grabbing the buggy whip, she started dancing, her drop-dead bod gyrating and undulating, “Hey, hey, mama, said the way you move, Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove..”  Brandishing the nasty whip , she punctuated her bumps and grinds with short, supple wrist flicks that sizzled through the air. She was driving him crazy and when she lifted her arms high in the air he was transfixed by the patches of sweat that appeared at her underarms. What a dance — And what a woman!

She slowly danced twoards him. “Swish” went the buggy whip, leaving a thin red stripe. “Ah, ah, child, way you shake that thing, Gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting.” She spun around, removing her blouse. He fell in love. Moving in and out she swished away, making thin lines all over him. It hurt like hell but he was way too intoxicated with her to protest. On and on the song went, with intermissions while she danced away followed by more evil cuts from the buggy whip. Eventually, his rump resembled some kind of bizarre peppermint candy.

When the song ended she was sweating heavily, breathing hard. She released Nate, and he crumpled down onto the floor. “Need a woman gonna hold my hand, tell me no lies, make me a happy man“. She turned off the music and got them both tall ice waters and sat down next to him. “This is going even better than I expected,” she exclaimed. 

“I’m so happy,” he said. “Anything for science!” “Are we done?” he queried. 

“No, just taking a breather before the last phase of today’s experiment.” 

His eyes moved to the glistening sweat on her cleavage. “Nate, look me in the eyes. Resist your animal urges for once, please,” she implored. He did as she asked, but gazing into her adorable eyes seem to have the opposite effect of what she was requesting.

“Ok, last phase,” she announced.

“Red.. I want you to get back onto this special cycle but I don’t want to restrain you. I need for you to cooperate voluntarily.”

How could he resist anything she asked for. “Ok, Ms. LeKane”. 

He did as he was told and she continued taking notes. She went over to the cabinet, pulled out a fur blindfold and gently placed it on him. 

He felt the machine moving now, his upper body bending over and his flanks being raised up into the air. He felt so vulnerable, his tushy right there, all stretched out. He was worried. “Try and relax as much as possible darling,” she cooed in his ear. “It will be less painful and I won’t risk breaking some of my equipment,” she added.

Again, he did as he was told. 

“Now Nate, I want you to breathe deeply and try to tell me what you smell,” she asked.

“hmm, that smell.. it smells like some kind of underarm odor,” he said quizzically. (Oddly, he really liked that smell).

“Very good, that’s what it is and it’s from my underarms,” she announced. “Your olfactory system is working well. Now let’s proceed with the next step.”

She placed something in front of Nate’s nose. He sniffed. “Bacon?” he guessed. “That’s correct. Bacon is not bad for you but it’s very dense in calories.” Suddenly he felt something rather cold and very hard being held against his lower butt cheeks. “This is a heavy, dense wood paddle,” she explained. W-H-A-C-K, and he practically hit the roof. “Man, I ain’t gonna be able to sit for a week!” he exclaimed. She had hit dead center and low (a beautifully-delivered smack).

“Did you understand what I just said about the bacon, Nate?”

“Yes I did,” he responded.

W-H-A-C-K a perfect repeat! “YEOWEE,” yelled Nate. Tears started welling up again.

“Where’s the Ms. LeKane, Nate”?

“Ms. LeKane” he blurted, trying to hide the tears from her.

He heard the rustling of paper and opening of a jar.

“Open your mouth, please” she said.

He opened and she placed something in his mouth. “Mmm, that’s a Cheez Doodle with mayo, right,” he asked.

“Correct. Again, something high in calories, but this time less dense. I’ve chosen my newly-acquired tawse to make my point. Don’t be fooled by foods that taste light, but are loaded with calories,” she instructed.

SWISH/SMACK.. SWISH/SMACK..  SWISH/SMACK  SWISH/SMACK.. went her tawse. Another “YEOWEE,” went Nate. Wow, that one hurt. He couldn’t decide which implement was worse, only that they were different. But he knew he had reached his limit.

“Please, please [sob] Ms. LeKane, can we finish this yet?”

“All right, Mr. Red Nate, you’ve been a terrific subject,” said Ms. LeKane. She pressed some buttons on the remote and the machine eased him into a standing position. He rubbed his buttocks to attempt to get rid of the horrible fire she had inflicted on his bottom. Then she threw her arms around him. (She made a mental note to herself about tawses that need to be broken in..).

She whispered in his ear: “Nate, you are a very very naughty boy, and you know it.” He nodded. “And what happens to very naughty boys, Nate?” “They get spanked, Ms. LeKane, spanked hard,” he said. “That’s right. And for the final phase of today’s session, I’m going to take you over my knee and do just that. I’m going to do what your mom should have, not in anger, but out of concern for your well-being.”

“And just to make it more poignant, look what we have here,” she added, as she took out a plate full of sliced carrots, celery, tomatoes and several other veggies.

“Now take this plate and set it down to the right of that straight-backed chair,” she ordered. “Yes, Ms. LeKane,” came the conditioned response, now automatic.

Ms. LeKane positioned herself on the chair and pointed to her lap. Nate came forward and climbed over it, his eyes gazing at the vegetable platter, his mind realizing that Ms. LeKane is a lefty.

The spanks began, each one beautifully delivered, using a whippy wrist motion that only a seasoned spanker can execute well, and covering all of the areas nicely, evenly. It hurt his already sore tush but nothing like the implements. He went into a reverie for the next 5 minutes or so until the excellent spanking came to a conclusion.

“You may get dressed now, Nate,” said Ms. LeKane.

He got up, tried to keep himself “together” after this whole experience, an absolute flood of emotions and sensations engulfed him. He dressed himself, regretting that he hadn’t folded his clothes neatly.

“Oh, lest I forget,” said Ms. LeKane, “here is your $50,” and she handed him a crisp bill. “I want you to give yourself a little time to process this experience, and if you choose to continue in the project, give me a call. Your next session will pay $100 and, if you haven’t lost any weight, you will get a very mild spanking. If you can manage to lose 3 lbs or more, you will get a little more than you got today, and you will have a chance to meet some of the other characters you saw in the cabinet. Understood?”

He looked her straight in the eyes and said, “understood, Ms. LeKane, and thank you.”

She gave him a little kiss on the cheek, opened the door and he exited. He don’t know whether he walked to his car or not, since it felt more like floating.

She locked the door, jotted a few final things on the clipboard, carefully cleaned the thick wood paddle, tawse, crop and buggy whip with Sporicidin and drew a bath for herself. She put the Bach CD back on.

She felt quite exhausted but completely exhilarated at the same time. The water was perfect and she guided her gorgeous body into the tub, leaned back. With her eyes closed she envisioned all the wonderful marks she had inflicted, heard his pleas and smiled. In the distance, she heard the phone ring, and Nate’s voice. ***