Chocolate Spank

by Harry <>


The story below is inspired by a dramatic scene in Robbert Corrmier's "Chhocolate Waar." [Note: I distort most distinctive names in Corrmier's book by doubling letters, in order to miss Internet searches. I suspect most fans of the original book would not be pleased with the alternate future offered here for the hero.]

"Chhocolate Waar," later made into a reasonably successful film, is a teen-oriented story of violence, cruelty, and corruption in a private high school. A senior teacher, Brrother Leeon, makes a cynical deal with a secret school gang-cum-fraternity, "The Viggils": they will make him look good by raising record money through the school's annual chhocolate sale, and he, as the next headmaster, will help cover up for their crimes. The story's hero, Jerrry Rennault, a new freshman, comes to oppose the sale, first by accident, but later by choice -- an inarticulate protest against corruption and bullying.

Nice guys finish last in Corrmier novels. Jerrry is beaten up twice, the second time quite badly, and the slimy Brrother Leeon does get the headmaster post. [Note: the film version altered the plot at the end so that the good guy (Jerrry) wins; Hollywood knows that a downer will bomb at the box office.]

Corrmier draws vivid, memorable characters. Two of the most colorful are villains: Arrchie Cosstello, a senior, the utterly cynical brains behind the Viggils gang, and Emmile Jannza, a bully, pervert, and juvenile delinquent, blossoming under Arrchie's influence. As described by Corrmier, Jannza sometimes feels "horny" when roughing up a kid or giving a downed opponent in football a gratuitous sly kick or jab.

Jannza is the primary agent in both of Jerrry's beatings. The first one (inspiration for my story below) showcased Jannza's devious sociopathic mind. Arrchie had ordered Jannza to beat Jerrry up, as both punishment and warning to stop defying the authority of the Viggils gang, now committed to the school chhocolate sale. Simple enough, yes? But Jannza decides to add a psychological twist. Instead of doing the job himself, he hires a gang of 8-10 slum kids, figuring the humiliation of a beating from younger kids would add to Jerrry's torment.

Jannza waylays Jerrry on the way home from school, and won't let him pass. Instead, he taunts Jerrry as a "fairy" (a charge he knows is probably untrue), to the point where Jerrry challenges him to a fight, poor though the odds may be. But Jannza just stands back and smiles. Jerrry is suddenly aware of 3-4 shadowy kids rushing silently toward him from shrubbery, and 5-6 more rushing from a pine grove. Before he can react, they swarm over him like fire ants, pulling him over, punching, gouging, jabbing, and kicking him, even in the groin. That last kick forces him to vomit, and only then, disgusted, do his assailants leave off their attack and disappear as quickly as they came.

I can now desist from the more blatant varieties of plagiarism. Suppose, instead, we had an even more devious and twisted bully -- let us call him Z__ -- enforcer on behalf of a school gang, the "Evils." How might Z__ plan to humiliate a troublesome freshman -- let us call him R__ -- so thoroughly that any further defiance is inconceivable?


[Taunted beyond endurance, R__ had just challenged Z__ to a fight. Instead, however, R__ was assailed on both sides by a gang of smaller kids, materializing quickly and silently from surrounding bushes and groves. They knocked him over and started punching him everywhere...]

then, as the wind and resistance seemed knocked out of him for the moment, grabbed him by both arms and legs, and mostly carried him (but with some bumps along the ground) back into the pine grove they had come from. They dropped him on the ground, and one of the older kids, looking more intelligent than the others, and only a year younger than R__, said, "Sit right there. Make one move, and we'll kick the _s_h_i_t_ out of you." The other kids huddled around R__, so that trying to make a break for it looked hopeless anyways.

Z__ followed into the small clearing at an ostentatiously relaxed pace, staring at R__ with a condescending smirk.

"So, R__, you don't like being called a fairy? Well, maybe you are one, maybe you aren't. That's not my problem today.

"But one thing I do know about you. You're a spoiled brat. All the other kids have been doing their part, selling the lousy chhocolates so the school will have enough money to stay open next year. But not you. You think you're too good to work like everyone else. Just let the rest of us do your work for you, eh? Well, I've gotten pretty fed up with it..."

"What do you think, guys?" Z__ looked in particular at the older kid who had warned R__ not to move. "Does R__ here sound like a brat to you?"

"Yeah" various voices came back, briefed earlier.

"I don't know what his problem is," added one.

"Jim," Z__ addressed one. "What would your dad do to you if you carried on like R__ here?"

"He'd take his belt off and beat my ass!" came back the prompted reply.

"Alex," this to the older kid who had ordered R__ to sit still. "What would your dad do?"

"Same thing, but he uses a hairbrush."

"You hear that, R__?" Z__ turned back to him. "You've been a spoiled brat for the last three weeks. Apparently your dad overlooked some point in your education. But we're going to do you a favor, that will help you get on in life. We'll do what your dad should have done a long time ago. By the time we're through with you, you won't be able to imagine not wanting to help your school."

He had by this time nodded to the kids, and they grabbed R__, who resumed struggling. It didn't do him much good; he was so outnumbered that they had a solid grip on him; the two punches he got in the stomach were not really necessary. Alex had seated himself astride a fallen log; R__ found himself pulled and shoved forward over the log, across Alex's knees. Several pairs of hands pulled his legs and arms out, enough to put him in a helpless and passive position. Others grappled with his pants, finding and unbuckling his belt, which was pulled out though the loops, then unbuttoning his pants and sliding them, despite his struggles, down to his ankles, now tied together by his belt. Someone started to lower his underpants as well, but was told to stop.

Held again immobile, but much more vulnerable, across Alex's knees, R__ became aware that some of the kids were staring at his backside and smirking even more than might have been expected. He realized that his underpants had not been put quite all the way back. The top of his crack was showing, as well as a teasing suggestion of the upper curve of his ass. He tried to pry an arm loose to correct it, but the kids holding his arms simply smiled at him and shook their heads.

Whether he wished to or not, R__ had to wait across Alex's knees, to learn what next was planned for him. Alex brushed R__'s shirt and undershirt up, resting one hand across his back, and the other on his cotton briefs. Z__ stood 10 feet back, his arms folded, giving R__ a sardonic look, but saying nothing.

Alex spoke first. "Okay, R__, we're going to give you some counseling. Each of us is going to try to talk some sense into you, one at a time. If someone asks you something, you answer back civil and to the point. When you don't, you'll get my dad's hairbrush." Alex had reached for a bag at his feet, and fished out a solid, heavy, sharp-cornered, black hairbrush, which he now held in front of R__'s nose; to R__'s queasy imagination, it looked monstrous, like a curry-comb. "Do I need to show you what it feels like?"

There were some giggles, and R__ blushed intensely. (Of course, he had been blushing anyways from his helpless and embarrassingly public position, and perhaps even more from a mortifying consciousness that something inside him did not seem to mind it all that much.) "No!" said R__, and Alex passed the hairbrush back to his right hand, resting it gently on R__'s butt, while his left hand resumed its place on R__'s back.

"Who will be first?" asked Alex.

Jim stepped forward and crouched down in front of R__'s face. "It looks like you got yourself in trouble, R__. When was the last time you aggravated your dad this much?"

R__ blushed again. Naturally, he didn't want to discuss such things with strangers, especially unfriendly ones.

"Answer him!" came, from above, the voice of Alex.

"I don't know... OW! ... OW!!" R__ screamed at two vicious cuts from Alex's hairbrush.

"Don't delay or evade; it will only get worse for you," warned Alex. "Answer whatever comes first to your mind."

R__ was baffled that kids younger than he was would be asking such heavy questions. He had no way of knowing that Z__ had briefed the kids yesterday, when recruiting them for this ambush. To ensure that R__ would be too humiliated even to think of opposing the Evils again, Z__ promised an extra dollar to any kid who could draw an embarrassing personal confession. He even cautioned them not to be hostile and insulting -- a sympathetic approach was more likely to win an unwise confidence.

"So," repeated Jim. "When was the last time you really got your dad annoyed?"

R__ was still a bit slow in responding. "I'm not really ... OW! ... Okay! Okay! Maybe it was two years ago."

"What was it about?"

"I cut school that day, and a neighbor of ours saw me on the street."

"What did he do to you? Did he spank you?"

"No, he doesn't believe in that for older kids. He grounded me for two weeks and made me clean up the cellar."

"So how old were you when he last spanked you?"

R__ again paused to think. This was really getting to be too much... But, as before, Alex's hairbrush put such thoughts to flight. "OW! OW!! Okay! I was eight years old."

"What had you done?"

"I had set off some firecrackers in the bushes, and they caught fire. Dad saw it in time and was able to put it out, but he was scared."

"How did he spank you? Did he take you over his knee, or make you bend over a chair or something?"

Ugh, thought R__. This is getting worse and worse...

"Answer him..." trailed Alex's voice in warning.

"He sat on a chair and pulled me over his knee."

"Did he spank you bare-ass?"

"Look," protested R__. "This is ridiculous, sick. If you're going to beat me up, get it over with, but don't keep after me with these questions."

Z__, leaning against a tree-trunk, spoke up. "Who said anything about beating you up? You have an attitude problem, but we want to help you. We have to ask these questions to figure out what will work best for you." He glared at a kid who had started to giggle, silencing him instantly.

Alex spoke up, "I've been going easy on you because you don't know the score, but I'm running out of patience." To Jim he added, "Repeat your question."

"Did he spank you bare-ass?"

"Answer the _d_a_m_n_ question -- now!" prompted Alex.


"What did he use? A belt?"

"He used his bare hand."

"Did he make you cry?"

Once again, R__ wanted to revolt against such questions. But Alex's hairbrush suggested otherwise. "OW! OW!! Yes! Yes!"

"How many times did he have to smack you before you started crying?"

"I don't know... OW! Maybe ten."

"Did you try to hold it back?"

"Yes, but it was no good. I knew he'd keep spanking me til I broke."

"How long did he keep spanking you after you started crying?"

"About ten more."

Z__ nodded to Jim, indicating it was time to go on to part 2. He had already earned his extra dollar, and the others deserved their turn.

"So," continued Jim. "Were you careful with fireworks after that?"

"Yes, I didn't start any more fires."

"Well, it looks like we are going to have make you a little more careful as well." Jim patted R__ on the head (a gesture that made R__ grimace with annoyance), got up from in front of him, and seated himself facing Alex, astride the log. He raised his knees gently up against the helpless R__. "I'm going to spank you ten times. While I'm doing it, I want you to think about cooperating with the other kids in school and doing your share of the work. Do you have anything to say before I start?" Meanwhile, he had stood up again partially, and was sliding R__'s underpants down to present a clear target.

"Cool!" chortled Z__ to himself. "Jim has this patter down even better than I hoped. I suppose he's learned it the uncomfortable way, heheheh!"

"No," answered a dispirited R__. He wanted to protest, but didn't fancy another losing encounter with Alex's hairbrush.

Jim reseated himself comfortably. He began to spank, taking his time, on alternating cheeks. Since he was 2 years younger than R__, his hand did not have an adult's force, but it still seemed to make R__ uncomfortable. His butt started to get a pinkish tinge, he started to clench it, his breathing got heavier, and he pulled his lips back. R__ had not cried out by the time of the tenth smack, but Jim had been told not to worry about that; he had made a good start to a job others would finish. For R__, of course, the pain at this stage was minor and passing; far worse was the knowledge that a younger kid had talked down to him, patted him on the head like a baby, and spanked his bare butt. Jim, meanwhile, stood up, pulled R__'s underpants back up to their normal position, and then moved away from the log.

"Who's next?" asked Alex.


Z__ was still feeling quite pleased with himself. He owed an unbudgeted extra seven dollars to successful "investigators," but the delicious humiliation they imposed made it cheap at the price. He foresaw many happy nights reliving what he had just seen and heard. For the last ten minutes, he had been too hard to walk straight.

Z__ now had to decide what to do next. All seven of the younger kids had "counseled" R__. There only remained Alex (though he had already "helped" R__ overcome his shyness with others), Z__ himself (who intended to stay above the fray), and Dino, the meatpacker's son. Dino was a special "treat" that Z__ had kept for the last. No older or taller than Alex, he nevertheless had developed some well-knit muscles, amplified by gym workouts.

Z__ had not really asked R__, recently, if he was willing to give in and cooperate with the school sale. Z__ rather suspected by now that if the question were put right, the answer would be yes. R__'s butt had turned a noticeable pink, spanked seven times, even if only by kids. (More to the point, probably, were the bruises from Alex's hairbrush, whenever R__ forgot himself.) R__'s spirits were bound to be depressed by enforced grovelling before seven separate "counselors," each demanding answers to questions that violated his privacy and self-respect.

But Z__ did not want R__ to surrender yet. Z__ was having too much fun with things just the way they were. He nodded to Dino.

Dino crouched in front of R__. "You just don't get it, do you? You think we're just here for your amusement?" (That was about the farthest you could get from what R__ was thinking just then.) "Well, my dad wouldn't put up with this _s_h_i_t_ for a minute. I'll show you what I mean." Dino got up, went over to the log, and sat in the usual position opposite Alex. But he said to Alex, "Here, let him go a bit. I want to take him." And he pulled R__ off of Alex's knees, locking him firmly over his own. Dino turned to the kids holding R__'s arms and legs. "You can let go of him. He can't go anywhere." As they released R__, Dino addressed him. "You hear that? They let you go. Now's your chance to get away from me. If you manage it, I promise you we're done with you for the day."

Z__ winced. That promise was not one he intended to offer. But maybe he should let Dino run things his way. From what Z__ had seen of Dino's sturdy build, escape would look like a miracle.

R__ tried. He twisted away from Dino, but Dino's arm had too strong a grip. He twisted back, hoping to bump Dino over, but Dino's solid build was unshakable. He slid back on his knees, but Dino slid his arm between R__'s legs from behind and, seemingly without effort, pitched him forward into the same vulnerable position as before. R__ flailed his arms, but Dino decided he had had enough. He caught one arm and twisted it behind R__'s back, without any pain, but the threat was there.

"Do we understand each other?" asked Dino.

"Yes," sighed R__.

"Better take his arms again," Dino addressed the other kids. "He's going to need some hand-holding." Then he spoke again to R__, "Okay. You're going to get it anyways, but before we start, are you ready yet to cooperate with that school sale?"

"You said I'm going to get it anyways?"

"That is correct."

"I don't see any point then."

"Wrong answer..." With that, Dino slid down R__'s underpants, fished a small paddle out of Alex's bag, and immediately set to work.

The first blow took R__'s breath away. This was almost as bad as Alex's hairbrush, and a lot more followed quickly, each multiplying the pain of the one before. R__ screamed, bucked hopelessly in Dino's strong grip, and finally burst into tears. Dino immediately slowed the pace, but still gave some extra smacks.

Meanwhile, Z__ was paralyzed with excitement, watching as R__ squirmed and writhed from the pain of each slap on his deliciously curved ass. This was mind-blowing, worth more than all the other things Z__ had ever fantasized about. Fortunately everyone's attention was on R__, so no one saw the bulge in Z__'s trousers.

Dino allowed R__ to slide to his knees. As R__ recovered his wits and pressed his now-scarlet backside, Dino addressed him again. "How about that school sale? Are you ready to cooperate now?"

"Yes! Yes! Please, I can't take any more."

"That's the first intelligent thing you've said all afternoon. Okay, the worst is over for you now. But you've given us an awful lot of grief. I'll give you a chance to get control of yourself, but before we're done, you have ten more coming by hand, just to make sure you don't forget."

"Not quite," interrupted Z__ from the edge of the clearing. "I still owe you, R__, and so does Alex. But you've had all you can take today. I'm willing to let you go, provided you agree that we will finish our business next week. How about it? Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," said R__. Anything to bring today's agony to an end.

"And how about you, Alex," asked Z__. "Are you willing to let R__ off for today?"

"Sure," answered Alex, "for the same deal you gave him. How about it, R__? Do you agree we can finish our business next week?" Alex wasn't sure he'd want to spank R__ again, but he decided to keep his options open.

"Yes," said R__.


Though satisfied with life, Z__ was grappling with unfamiliar emotions.

Returning to school the day after Z__'s "counseling session," R__ had become a model salesman. The president of the Evils asked Z__ what he had done, but Z__ put him off with a vague Mona Lisa smile. "You told me to persuade R__, and I persuaded him. Leave him to me, and he won't cause any more problems."

In the past, Z__ would have boasted far and wide of his triumph, savoring the total humiliation of his victim. But this time, he found himself protecting R__, keeping their encounter a secret. (The kids he brought in were outsiders, not likely to spread gossip to the school. In any case, Z__, a kid whose threats carried great conviction, had warned them to keep quiet.)

So what was going on? Z__ realized he was strongly, even "passionately" -- if that is what the word meant -- attracted to R__, in particular to R__'s ass, displayed to such advantage three days ago. If he continued to play the bully, he might be able to corner R__ once or twice more, but that would be all. Suppose instead, in contrast with previous habit, he went out of his way to be helpful and friendly? R__ already knew that Z__ was protecting him from further problems with the Evils. Z__ would encourage R__ with support and kind words to ask for other favors.

Indeed, Z__ realized, he admired the kid, never mind his ass. He certainly had guts, though no common sense, going on a kamikaze mission against the whole school. He needed someone -- Z__ was already nominating himself for the role -- to protect him from himself. But if Z__ wanted to stay ahead of him, Z__ would have drop some of the street-corner-bum act -- though not all of it -- it was fun -- and start cultivating skills useful to grownups.

Z__ would not let R__ forget the "debt" agreed on 3 days ago. On the contrary, R__ should be gently but insistently brought to accept that his ass was always in play. But Z__ was not in any rush to collect the debt. "Before I'm done messing with his mind," Z__ chuckled to himself, feeling a swelling in his pants, "he's going to be coming after me, begging for it!"

The end.

More stories by Harry