Adele Speaks

Adele Speaks

   … … Awww, Richard is such a sweetheart. This is Adele. I simply had to rush over with my daughter when I read his last post about me. He simply adores Ava. She favors her mother, from auburn pageboy to toes.

   She’s a tad more hippy than me. Richard constantly wants his face and tongue inside her bottomcleft. He does that a lot with me, too.

Gender Perspectives

   But I digress. Ava’s uncle is now standing naked against her right bare thigh, drooling precum all over it. Even though she has a Spencer in her gloved hand. Even though her spankings are vicious and lengthy as mine. Even though he will suffer soon, and his hard proud prick will shrivel into a worm from the pain.

   Men are mysterious creatures. I know they desperately need frequent Discipline. I know their submissive lust for Dominas. But I also know that Discipline hurts like holy hell, on sensitive male fannies in particular.

   So why is my brother standing there like that? He doesn’t know. Oh, good. Ava is gauging his testicles. They are round and tight, full of cum. I advised my daughter to give his fanny nine screamers with the cane before she takes him across her lap. That should take the edge off.

   You see, it’s vastly different for Dominas. We are sexually aroused, cunts dripping, for the entire time. It’s all cream to us, no tears or pain involved.

   On the other hand, female duties and responsibilities are endless. Simply learning them is hard serious work.

   Every girl leaves high school with two diplomas. One is similar to what boys get. The other is a fully-earned Certificate in Licensed Practical Nursing. She then goes to Domina Arts College for months of intensive study and training.

   And so begins her busy Domina life. Mother was my role model. Tall and elegant in sexy outfits, heel sandals. Stern and commanding. A firm believer in all aspects of Discipline, especially domestic and extended-family spankings. When I was young, Mother warned me – vehemently.

    “At home, it’s more relaxed. More time on your lap, kisses, frigging, and fondling. But by heavens, it’s different in public and with guests! I want you properly respected by daddy and Richard. They’ll only do that with proper spankings. Frequent, skillful, and severe. All three. Always.”

   “Particularly Richard. I know how easily a girl can go soft with her darling brother. Sits him naked on her lap for kisses, instead of across her lap for spankings. It’s a terrible mistake, and bad for both.”

   “A boy gets Naughty and hysterical when his sister neglects his spankings. He doesn’t respect his sister. His rotten behavior in public will shame her, people will laugh and gossip behind her back.”

   I’ve never forgotten Mother’s warning. Rest assured that Richard’s luscious fat fanny was extremely well-spanked until the week of his wedding. Then Sandra took over from Mother and me, female family, and his girlfriends.  

   It was my pleasure. I loved it. When I was young, I stripped and spanked every naked male I got my hands on. My cunt flowed while they screamed. It’s in my nature and DNA. I’m passionate about Discipline.

Together

   I went to Domina Arts College for the usual 6 months study and training every girl receives. It was a short walk from Richard’s ETT Clinic. Two months in, on random school mornings or afternoons, my classmates and I walked there.

   We attended classes and labs with our brothers, did their morning T&Ts when possible, and frequently “gauged” their cocks and testicles. We spent the entire Saturday with them, cheered at their sports events, and tucked them in bed.

   I was delighted with Richard’s Enhancements. I had carefully chosen each one – nose to toes (it’s a sister’s prerogative) with Mother’s input. My girl classmates were equally pleased by their own brothers. We took many pictures, proudly sharing and talking about the new charms of our cuties for weeks.

   A few girls had Prince Alberts done. They’re lovely, even rakish, on erect dripping cockheads. But too much for me. Besides, wives usually decide that.

   The final two months, boys live in their sisters’ dorms. Four girls share a room that’s larger and more lavish than the sterile beige functionality our brothers had. Drapes, mirrors, carpeting, wood paneling, 3-D TVs and posters, music systems, a Spanking Stool at the foot of each girl’s bed.

   Our brothers slept in soft cots, below and beside our plush beds. A huge, fully equipped, 4-person capacity mixed-gender bathroom. It was all much like home. Morning T&Ts, to nightly tuck-ins, and frequent severe spankings.

   Every morning, 4 girls barefoot in knee-length bath girl tee shirts with 4 naked brothers. Pees to baths. Morning spankings. Minimal primping. Hair in a pony tail, minimal blush and lip gloss, little silver rings in his piercings, oiled genitals. Drab beige mid-thigh frock and scuffed Mary Janes.

   We sat the boys on our SS’s. Quietly waiting while we bathed, groomed, and dressed. They were so adorable when we came out! Eyes glazed by submissive lust and love, erect pricks tenting frocks, licking lips. Exactly as girls want brothers to look at them.

   Our college girl uniform was simple enough. White silk blouse with deep décolletage, black pleated skirt well above the knee, strappy glossy 4-inch heel sandals.

   Their soft delicate hands in ours, we escorted our boys to ETT Clinic, two blocks distant. On a wide sidewalk along a busy, small-town street. Boys’ eyes on sisters’ toes, our heels clicking, vulgar shouts and whistles from females in cars.

   During the last two months of Therapy, boys receive psychological and religious counseling every morning. Usually straddling sisters’ thighs Cowboy Out, invariably with dripping erections (males are Always completely naked when on laps).

   Without thinking about it, I fondled Richard’s genitals during counseling. I was surprised to eventually learn that all girls do that. It’s instinctive.

   Counseling was quite enlightening. A rare instance when Richard is encouraged to speak freely, at length. I tell him to be perfectly honest (he should always be, of course). Once a week, after toilet, I give him Truth Milk beforehand to make certain.

   I learned the oddest things about my brother. Some made me blush. Me! For example. One morning he glumly complained to the psychologist. “I never kiss inside Adele’s bottom and cunny.”

   She looked at me blandly. I began to make feeble excuses. Actually, it simply made me queasy and uncomfortable. With any male. Daddy, naturally, tried, but I pushed him away. Most of my girlfriends did it. Mother too. They loved it. I didn’t have a leg to stand on. I blushed.

   Our shrink changed the subject, and met me privately later. After a few sessions with her (and some adorable naked older men) the quirk disappeared. Richard and daddy were very happy. Me too. I started using Oral Service Chair units, indoors and outside, more often than Mother.

   At least once a week, sisters leave boys alone for counseling. The poor naked darlings cry their hearts out when we walk away. For heaven’s sake, their pricks go limp!

   We use that time in conferences with his Treatment staff – Governess, Nursemaid, Doctor, Nurse, and other professionals.

   Later, brother and sister are reunited. Boys always have to pee. Then, often as not, we share classes and labs. But not together. It’s firm Clinic and College policy. Girls must exchange brothers in labs and classrooms.

   Between periods, the halls are crowded with sisters and brothers.

   Boys hold frocks above nipples, naked to ankles, dreamy expressions on upturned faces. (It’s one of the first lessons a boy learns. Never! Ever! Look down like an idiot when your sister has your genitals in her hand).

   Big strong girls squat between wide-apart chubby legs. Stiff dripping pricks against their cheeks. Expertly gauging testicles. If the huge ballsacks are bulging with spunk (a common condition), sisters need to drain them. But only after ferocious spankings.

   That’s why we first ask, “Do you need to poop?” I don’t know why I bother. Richard’s genitals in my sweet hands is all he cares about. He says, “No, ma’am”, and he’s usually wrong. I often need a suppository to make sure, though.

   After graduation, we relaxed at home for a few months. I took Richard shopping. Our grandmas gave me a generous check at the Welcome Home party.

   I was glad my brother was naked for it. His party frocks and pinafores were embarrassing. Frumpy, outdated, and boring. The everyday ones even worse.

   To be honest, my wardrobe wasn’t much better. Except for school uniforms, I hadn’t bought a new outfit or heels in ages.

   When the ladies said, “spend every penny on nice things”, I could have kissed them. In fact, I did, passionately. Standing upright, Richard kneeling under my dress, his face between my bottomcheeks. Darn! He needed higher kneepads, too.

   After several shopping trips, we had nice things galore. Closets, shoe trees, vanity tables, bathrooms, and drawers filled.

   For me, eight pairs of elegant heel sandals that made Richard’s prick twitch. Casual to formal, so well-designed they allowed nearly full O without taking them off.

   A ton of sexy dresses of various styles, for every occasion. Several cashmere sweater dresses of different colors – Richard adores them on me. Nifty skirts and blouses. Silk hosiery with stirrups that left my feet bare for Obeisance. Leather garter belts. Strong nearly transparent bras. Hormonal perfume. Other lovely things.

   For him, darling frocks and pinafores, in styles appropriate for everything from doctor visits to formal balls. Polka dots and striped gingham, patterns and colors, sleeveless and sleeved. Hems 4 modest inches below the bottom crease of Richard’s fat bare fanny.

   Shirts and tights with Velcro strips around a genital oval, waist to knees in back. Genital Shelf belts. Boys look so cute with exposed genitals, tender testicles cupped by concave shelves of wood.

   Mary Janes, ballet slippers, low sandals, frilly socks. Boys don’t wear undergarments.

   I still had money left. I spent it on Richard.

   Discipline Instruments, butt plugs, piercings jewelry. The complete 3-D Domina Angel movies to date, magazine subscriptions (“Strict Sisters”; “Young Dominas”; “Mothers & Sons” among them). Body massage lotion and Discipline Salve, perfumed genital and fanny oils, frigging and fondling oil.

   That all done, along with a full Beauty Treatment for my brother, I was ready for Youth Brunches. The casual (but really not) get-togethers at unmarried girls’ homes. Male companions are required. Usually brothers, boyfriends, or fiancées.

   The average Brunch starts about 11 am, ends no later than 2. Six or 8 couples is best. We chat about girl things (mainly Discipline and boys) while judging and rating the other couples. Many marriages began at Brunches.

   Male companions Sit Out straddling our thighs with bare feet. Dressed in charming frocks and pinafores, perfectly primped, with butt plugs up their rectums. They don’t speak unless told to, and often need to pee.

   There’s at least one spanking. Likely as not, because a boy is besotted by a particular voluptuous beauty. He told his sister. Nothing better catches big lusty girls’ attention than severe spankings. All a boy’s naked charms are on display, and every girl gets aroused.   

   I love to Brunch, all girls do. I wanted to look my best for the first since graduation. Mother was a dear, and prepared Richard while I prepared myself. Silver headband and necklace. Finally decided on gray cashmere sweater dress, sheer black hose, strappy black heels.

   I walked in as Mother held Richard’s skirt up to apply a final dab of perfume oil to his cockhead. She turned to me, sweaty in her long tee shirt, but pleased.

   “Two large enemas, greased and ready for your butt plug. He was so balky, I nearly spanked the living snot out of him. I will tonight, that’s a promise. Isn’t he the cutest studmuffin?”

    Richard stood there, equal parts sullen and vain. Fluttering his long eyelashes In a one-piece sailor pinafore.

   Blue on white stripes to waist, white skirt hugging his hips. Shoulder-length hair in large ringlets and white ribbons. Mascara and lip gloss on cherubic face. Girls would want to kiss him. I did, myself.

   “Cute enough to eat, Mother. Please guide his head between my legs, and hand me the butt plug. Oh, roll his skirt up. I never saw such a tight skirt on a boy. My friends will be impressed.”

   He whined and whimpered as I inserted the plug. The widest section is the most difficult. But I surprised Richard, ramming it home with a quick mighty thrust. He merely gulped when his anus clamped around the stem.

   It was a 30 minute drive to Paula’s. She’s a few years older than me, we have a vague friendship. My first visit to her house.

   But it wasn’t a house. It’s a mansion! Long winding white gravel. I stopped near the door of the stone castle. Lifted Richard’s Carrier out of the car. The only one I could see.

   A brisk young woman in Governess uniform opened one side of the double door and walked to me.

   “I’ll park the car in back. Three couples are already here. There’s a table in the foyer. Put the Carrier on it, and unstrap your young gentleman. Someone will put it away. Please remove the panties.”

   Richard needed a minute to get his legs under him. I heard conversation and tinkling coffee cups. We walked towards them.

   A large room, high window ceiling, fireplace. My heels seemed quite loud on the polished wood floor.

   Paula walked up to us. A big blonde of 6-7, pleasant homely face, oriental sheath dress molded to her voluptuous curves.

   “Welcome to my home, dear. I’m so glad you came. My, you look ravishing. And who is this cutie pie with a banana up his lovely tight skirt? Tell me your name, darling boy.”

   She bent down, face near his. Correctly, he was looking at her feet. He murmured, “Richard?”

   Our hostess laughed. ”I’ll call you Dickie. Cuz you’re a sweet boy with a big hard prick. Do you have to pee, Dickie? I bet you do. And look up at me when you answer.”

   Her voice was like a whiplash. Richard craned his neck, eyelashes fluttering, prick twitching. He knew a strict Domina when he met one.

   “Y-y-yes, ma’am.” “I thought so. Adele, let me take him. You go and mingle. Have coffee or a beverage. A muffin. My naughty naked brother – Paul! Lips at her feet! – will show you around.”

   Why not? By the time they got back, all seven invited couples had arrived. Richard had smudges of Paula’s lipstick on his face.