Sandra and stuff

Six Months Later

   One winter Saturday morning after my bath, Mother carried me downstairs naked. I was out of sorts. No spanking since Thursday night, and no cum either. It was Yuletide. Snowing.

   Mother stuffed used panties in my mouth, strapped me in a Carrier, and walked off. A few minutes later, she returned in a Governess uniform, and wrapped a blanket around me. She took me outside, holding my Carrier by the handle.

   I guessed it was for a complete medical examination. Both genders get them every quarter. A girl called out in a deep throaty voice. Sandra.

   I watched her striding to us, my head immobilized in the Carrier hanging at Mother’s knee. Heedless of the weather, Sandra didn’t wear a coat over her Marine dress uniform and heel sandals. When she came closer, I could only see her feet.

   Sandra looked even bigger and more muscular. In her Marine uniform, she was every young man’s wet dream. To be more precise, since young men almost Never have wet dreams in their chastity cages … the type of girl we fantasize about when we’re being frigged.

Sandra and Mother

   “Hi there, Lady! I’m just back from Marine Training on Yule leave.”

   “Well, hello Sandra. How nice to see you.”

   “Where you taking Richard?”

   “Medical examination. Tip to toe. Pee, poop, cum, saliva. Mouth, rectum, urethra. The works.”

   Sandra bent down to kiss my nose, pat my fanny, stroke my erect prick. Humiliating. Exciting. Only her feet in heel sandals visible to me. I remembered how her first two toes completely filled my mouth.

   “That’s cool. Hey, not to be abrupt or anything. I’m on leave for six weeks, and I have to ask. Would you let me date Richard?”

   Mother laughed. “I’ve been waiting for this. You’ve had a crush on my boy since forever. He likes you, too. Of course.”

   “Oh my, thanks so much. Say, I’m not doing much today. Would you like company?”

   “Sure, why not. It’s a long appointment, and I’d love to chat. My goodness, what a big strong girl you are now. How big?”

   “6-7 in these heels. 230 pounds.”

   “A beauty, too. Sit in the back seat with Richard. Feel free to fondle him. He’s nervous, and it soothes him. I haven’t spanked him for nearly two days. He hasn’t pooped yet today”.

   Women and outsiders will never know the shame of it. A young man’s Mother talking to a pretty girl like that. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

Together At Mens Clinic

   We were in the Waiting Room. I was Riding Out on Sandra’s right leg as Mother flipped through a magazine. “Mothers’ Journal”. The cover had a sexy Domina in heels standing beside a naked boy with thick blonde curls. Her hand on his shoulder. The boy was much smaller, of course, his but erect dripping prick compensated.

   “Spanking Your Son. When? How Hard? How Often? Dr. Laura’s Professional advice. Tips, Tricks, and Secrets from cunning Mothers. When He Should ALWAYS Suck Your Toes”.

   I peeked down, leering at Sandra’s elegant feet and toes. They looked twice the size of mine. A Nurse Aide came up, heels clicking.

   “We need stool and urine samples. Cum after severe spanking. I’ll be happy to do it.”

   Sandra, boldly. “Oh, why can’t I?” To Mother, “Would you trust me?”

   “Certainly, dear. How kind and thoughtful. Richard’s sister usually did these things.”

   I still had reeking panties in my mouth, so I couldn’t say a thing. Just as well, because nobody was interested in my opinion anyway. If you’re interested, I was shocked and outraged.

The Male Toddle - Anatomy and Etiology

   So, my hand in Sandra’s, I toddled away with her. Not a waddle exactly, but not a walk, either. Sandra’s decisive stride is far beyond masculine capabilities, and wishes. I toddle.

   I am a man, and walk that way. I have 45-inch hips and a heavy deep fanny. The poundage of each bottomcheek is into double digits. I receive around 3  horrific spankings daily, along with other Discipline. My super-sensitive fanny is often purple and swollen, which makes walking painful and sitting worse.

Bowed Legs and Male Stance

   I am a man. I toddle. My normally full testicles are a delicate round cannonball between my bowed legs.

   Consequent to all that, the toes of my feet point inwards. The vulgar term is “pigeon-toed”, but men prefer “male stance”.

   I toddle. My thick erect prick is 8-plus inches of proud male virility, shaped like a scimitar (or, if you please, a banana). Inexhaustible precum spews from the tip of my formidable, deeply ridged, mushroom-shaped cockhead.

   I need several cums daily. More, of course, after intense spankings, which I receive frequently. Thus, my testicles are “gauged” regularly, although Mother takes it to extremes. am normally erect, and my precum never runs dry.

   I am a man. Innocent girls and experienced Dominas know my sexual condition at a glance. If unsure, they merely lower my tights. Or lift the hem of my frock, pinafore, and other girly garments. I wear that attire by female command, often with a wicked butt plug to intensify my abasement.

   Satisfied, curious females handspank me a few times, and caress my cock. I simper “Thank you, ma’am”, and curtsey low (it hurts horribly with a butt plug).

   I endure these and other humiliations with the best grace and false smiles I can muster. I pray my Domina is pleased by my courtesy. All too often She is not, and there’s hell to pay.

Struts Are Naughty, Marches Are Piquant

   I toddle like a man. Sometimes I sashay or strut, extravagantly rolling my bottomcheeks and bobbing my prick to attract female admiration. If my female escort catches me there is hell to pay. The girl or woman whose feet I’m supposed to be gazing at will surely thrash me silly.

   I can be “Marched”. A female middle finger (hopefully lubricated) fully up my rectum leads my Marching. I’m usually on tiptoes. In a frock or naked. On those occasions, my prick is iron hard and leaks precum like a faucet.

Dominas Stride For Good Reasons

   I’m a man. I toddle. A female always escorts (and protects) me in public. I toddle, my eyes glued to her feet in heel sandals. Even barefoot, she is much taller than me. However shod, she is bigger, stronger, and heavier - with denser bones and an innate desire to thrash naked males.

   She strides with confident, commanding gait. I toddle beside Her, my soft little hand in Her tougher bigger one. My gracious, I’m glad to be a man!

   I toddle alongside Sandra, who smelled wonderful. Like new mown grass and candy canes. Apple pie. Pungent cuntal juices. She sweetly smiled down at me, patted my pristine bare fanny. I looked up at her, so strong and tall. My heart skipped a beat, my prick jerked.

Sandra Handles Me

   We came to the Bodily Fluids room. Adele usually took me there. White tile and high windows. Toilets, enema benches, spanking stools. Naked men of all ages – peeing, pooping, screaming, cumming. Nurse Aides and young Dominas in charge of everything.

   I peed copiously for Sandra, shivering as her large shapely hand held my penis at a beaker. Not surprisingly, I could not poop. In that atmosphere, men can’t.

   Blushing with shame, “Ma’am, I just can’t”.

   “You can try. Try for me!” I did, with all my might. I wanted it for sweet Sandra. All I gave her were smelly shameless flabby farts.

Sandra’s Enema

   Sandra’s greased gloved finger up my rectum. Bigger than Adele’s! She squeezed the contents of a filled enema ball into me. I soon pooped for her. A nurse aide scooped up the stool sample. An entire turd. I turned away.

   Sandra made me look. “Size, shape, smell, color, and consistency are all very  important. Girls my age check family males several times a day. You can at least do it once.”

   (That was hard and unfair. I’d get my Nursing degree in June, and knew all about that. I simply abhor my own ordure.)

Sandra Spanks Me

   She sat on a spanking stool, raised the dress high. “Unsnap me and take off my hose. Give me your Satchel.”

   I whimpered when she chose my new polished oak Spencer Spanker. An early Yule gift from Mother. She bustled home after shopping, eager to use the scary instrument on my poor fanny forthwith. It was holy hell.

   I gripped the stool legs, looked at Sandra’s feet and toes properly. Wondered, as young men do, how it would be to look at them thus as a husband.

   Across Sandra’s lap for an eternity of agony, all my other worries and woes forgotten. A Domina doctor probed, poked, pinched, and palped my anguished fanny without mercy. My fanny slathered in Salve, I straddled Sandra’s right thigh as she frigged me. Only Mother and Adele do it better, and they’ve had years of practice. Sperm sample.

   Then Sandra surprised me. She turned me Facing In, looked deep into my eyes, kissed me passionately. I’d never been kissed like that since our last time. I’d been kissed by many girls and women over 3 years. Sandra’s kiss was .. indescribable.

Doctor’s Examination

   I was strapped to the examination chair, legs up and spread. Domina doctor’s middle finger in my rectum, massaging my prostate gland, while Sandra watched.

   I knew the doctor. Justine was an energetic young Frenchwoman, only a year out of medical school in Calais. Big and tall as a policewoman, she bubbled with all the new French and English ideas and innovations.

   Dr. Justine had recently given a three-day seminar at Nursing College. It concerned new, bi-monthly injections for men. Frenchwomen had been doing them for some time now, and loved the effects. Optional now in America, she hoped to make them mandatory, as they are in France and England.

   The good doctor took an immediate liking to Sandra, and mentored her.

   “This should be checked weekly. Not just used for cold-massage cums. Come. You do it.” Sandra did. I squirmed and squealed.

   “Inspect his testicles every day. Bath is a good time. Carefully roll the delicate balls between your fingers. Like this. Now you do it.” Sandra did. I cried.

   “So sensitive and vulnerable! Men are called “The Weaker Sex” for good reasons.”

   “Now I’ll inspect his fanny. Oho! Very nice spanking, young lady. Look closely at the surface welts, swellings, and colors. Underneath, men have triple the nerves per square inch of women. Special healing capillaries we don’t have at all.”

   My exam chair went horizontal. “Make him erect and dripping.” Sandra’s hands and fingers, big as they were, played my cock and testicles like a concert pianist.

Sandra Tastes Me

   “Formidable penis. Suck his fine cockhead. Lick some precum. What’s the taste?” “Tangy, like a lemon, somewhat musky.” “Citrus is happy and submissive. Musk means lust. Bitter signals emotionality. Sweet means something else. So many other tastes.”

   “Precum is sweetest during fondling. My new husband can’t get enough of that. But I’m too busy. I only have time for his prick in my cunt.”

   Sandra sat me Sideways on her lap. She talked with Dr. Justine about my health. Domina conversation, uninteresting to most men. But I was training to be a Nurse, so I listened.

Sandra Injects Me

   “There’s a great new supplement. An injection. Twice a month, into each bottomcheek. You can do it at home. He’ll only need Nutrition Milk at breakfast. Heavier cums, more sensitive fanny, larger labile prostate. Affects male emotions, too, in positive ways.”

   “An optional compound visibly grows hips and fanny. A few pounds and inches. My husband is sexier with 48-inch hips. All fesse – fanny - I cream just caressing it. Spankings are divine. He gets regular bottomcleft spankings? Splendid.”

   Mother had already agreed. A nurse aide brought a metal case of disposable syringes. The hypodermic needles were 4 inches long. I snickered. At the crest, standing straight, my fanny is way thicker than that.

   Sandra gave my first pair of injections in the office. Owch! The needles are short. But they’re thick, and the fluid going in hurts like sin.

   Sandra put soft booties on my feet. She kissed each one. “Darling little things, and well-tended. A girl notices that”.

   “I want more kisses!”  My plea was loud and petulant.

   “You know better than that. Words, tone of voice, attitude. All wrong. No kisses for Richard”.

Sandra And The Crying Room

   Dr. Justine wanted me back next day. Sandra drove me there herself, still angry about my Insolence. The exam was perfunctory, but amazing.

   I stood naked on an adjustable steel bench with supporting arms called a Riser. Found in every home, it’s used to elevate standing men. For example, Mother puts me on it to measure me, waist and below.

   A few buxom Nurse Aides looked on as Dr. Justine elevated me over three feet. That made my fanny high as her titties. I got scared, and Sandra had to hold me with both hands slightly above my knees. Her large hands completely encircled my lower thighs.

   My doctor pinched several areas of my fanny and inside my bottomcleft. The pain was excruciating! I screamed.

   “Hush, little blancmange. I’ll pinch your tummy just the same way. See? Not so bad, eh?” It wasn’t. At all.

   “See, Sandra cher, only one day after your injections, and his fanny is tres more sensitive. But also stronger. It can get an extra spanking or two every day. You like that, eh? I thought so. Now, you do it.”

   My Carrier blanket on her arm, Sandra whispered to the doctor. I was horrified. “By all means the Crying Room. Be good for him. And savage spankings are mandatory after injections anyway.”

   I whined in Sandra’s arms as she carried me there. She sat on the spanking stool in front, barely two feet from the waist-high spectator partition. People were gaping at us, I saw them through Sandra’s lower legs.

   Then I saw nothing save Sandra’s feet through my tears. Less than two days without spankings, but it might as well been a lifetime. Sheets of raw bloody pain, agony I’d forgotten, my fanny so large and sensitive. I was surprised at my surprise.

   After all, for more than 3 years, I’d received at least 4 screaming spankings before Mother or Adele tucked me in bed every night. With kisses and cums.

   After all, Adele always took me to the Crying Room.

   But I never got kisses – or spankings – from Sandra before. She was sui generis. Unique and overwhelming. She still is. I love her madly.

   When the horrific spanking was done, she snapped her fingers to render O. My poor fanny facing the spectators. Humiliation! My blazing bottom! Then I started farting again.

   I never thought the taste of a girl’s toes could compare with Adele’s. Any and everything else about my sister, for that matter. She’d been my Ideal of a Domina. Until Sandra.

   After Salve, Sideways on her lap, my bunched testicles between her thighs, I drank in her kisses. She frigged me that way. And I cried. I’d cried for many reasons. I cried my heart out several times every day. But never before for a cum.