Yesterday & Now - 2

Embracing My Masculine Nature 

   I’m obviously not stupid. It’s just difficult for a boy to swallow and digest all the aspects of his masculinity without extensive soul-searching. To recognize the enormous ramifications of legal age. To fully accept that he loves being male, and everything it entails.

   To admit that the major concepts which will forever rule my life – Submission; Obedience; Modesty; Honesty; Helplessness; Ownership; Discipline! … bate my breath, tightens my testicles, hardens my prick.

   To know that every sexual thought, dream, and reverie I ever had, has been completely and utterly … masculine.

   To confess my Lies, my slacking. Since Adele started wearing heel sandals – and I had to render O to females in heels. I was thoroughly taught it in school, theory and practice. I Lied that I hated it. It was Slacking to do it poorly.

   To stop pretending I dislike females doing my Toilets and Toilettes. (As if I really wanted to wipe my own fanny, bathe myself, primp and dress myself.)  To stop lying to Mother about masturbating.

  My New Interests

   At some point, when we went shopping, I began to ask Adele to take me to special stores. Of course, I couldn’t buy anything. Neither could dad. Only girls and women can do that.

   The shops cater to boys and young men. Books, magazines, videos, music albums, posters. Everything with Dominas. Many not much older than Adele. After she wore heels, I rendered O to her.

   I compared her feet and toes to the stern teen girls I masturbated over. I often thought hers were sexier. But I still lusted to throw myself at the feet of girls and women displayed in the shops.

   We saw older couples at those places. Big girls in heel sandals and dresses, brothers in polo shirts and tights. I shivered when girls put hands in their brothers’ pants. 

   Adele bought everything I wanted. She knew I masturbated over them. My bedroom and bathroom don’t have doors. She constantly caught me.

  I Grow Naughty & Hysterical

   But increasingly, I felt something was out of whack. I was nervous, jumpy, and hysterical. I cried over every little thing. I had nightmares frequently, and ran crying to Adele’s bed. I often got constipated, and needed “baby suppositories” and “children’s enemas”.

   Throughout the year before my Discipline started, with greater intensity as the months wore on, I became an unruly bratty little monster. Rude, discourteous, snotty, sarcastic, Insolent and Disobedient.

   I was balky and uncooperative in the bathroom. Sometimes, Mother and Adele had to force me down with main strength. I rendered O with ill grace and worse technique.

   Sometimes, I refused to perform that common courtesy altogether! Although Mother sternly warned against the filthy deed, I constantly  masturbated.

   Every female reading this knows what the problem was. If she had a brother, she experienced it first hand. I was at a boy’s stage of physical and emotional maturity when only severe frequent spankings from his sister can help.

  My First Spankings  

   The day of reckoning finally arrived. Heels clicked into my room that morning, and together they gave me a 2 quart enema. I fought and kicked and screamed and swore. After the inevitable heavy poop, I clenched my soiled bottomcleft tight. Only the pain of squeezed testicles made me relax them for wiping.

   It must have been an amusing sight. One chubby naked boy, 5-7 and 150 pounds - against two powerful, broad-shouldered muscular females in heels …Adele, 6-4; Mother, 6-6; at least 70 pounds heavier.

   My ETT Therapy would begin two months hence. Until then, I’d be under domestic Discipline. I’ll never forget that first spanking from Adele. Nothing could have prepared me for the blazing agony.

   But what really dismayed me was … I couldn’t wriggle off her lap. With one huge strong hand (at least twice the size of mine) on the small of my back, she firmly held me in place.

   I received 3 more spankings from Adele that day, one from Mother, and was kept naked. My cries and screams were so loud and long, I could barely speak above a whisper by bed time.

  A Boy’s Nightly Ritual

   That night, I stood up in the tub for my evening handbath before bed. I cried out as Adele’s soapy fingers washed my sore, welted fanny and hindquarters. From bottomcleft to knees, the entire expanse blazed with searing pain.

  Prayers & Nocturnal Emissions

   My sister led me to the bedroom for prayers. She sat on a Spanking Stool, legs apart, and I kneeled between them. I’m still very religious, but most boys that age are intensely devout.

   I’d always said my prayers to Mother before that night. Kneeling naked between her knees, I poured my pure little heart out.

   The past year or more, however, was embarrassing to say the least. My cock stiffened and twitched. And kissing her bare bald cunt at the end – which I’d always done fervently and innocently - left me restless until falling to sleep.

   Then there was the misery of dreaming. Since my first nocturnal emission, Mother locked my limp penis in a chastity cage. Mothers hate nocturnal emissions.

   Chastity cages prevent erections and emissions while sleeping, which Mothers appreciate. But they’re misery for boys who have sexual dreams. Pain, pinching, and throbbing ensure a troubled night’s sleep.

   That night, I prayed to Adele. Fanny burning, Salve itching, it was hard to concentrate properly. I had to thank her for the spankings. That was hard. For some reason, kissing her cunt wasn’t. But golly, it sure was smelly and wet!

  Bedtime Frigging & Lecture   

   There was a Salve diaper on my bed. The diaper was humiliating, but the Salve would cause me terrible distress. She bent down to kiss me, titties swaying half exposed by cleavage. I moaned when she took my penis in her hand. A chastity cage in the other.

   “What is it, sweetie?”

   “Uh – urr – ooh – I need to c-c-cummmm.”

   In fact, during that traumatic day, I didn’t have a single cum. But that evening, for the first time, I experienced the intense sexual hunger spankings engender. Every girl quickly learns about it. Heavens, I did too!

   It seemed my testicles were always full! And for some reason, I literally found it impossible to masturbate from then on. That’s why young ladies Gauge their brothers so often.

   “That’s lovely. From now on, forevermore, females will handle that. Your masturbating days are definitely over. Actually, other things, too. Don’t touch yourself anywhere, not even for itches. Females will scratch them.”

   “Don’t look at yourself, either, without female permission. Never look at your penis, especially when I touch it in public. When we’re in public, always look at my feet until I say different.”

   While she was speaking, Adele caressed my hungry prick with a hand slick with frigging oil. She hefted my bursting ballsack with the other. She kissed the tip of my cockhead.

   The cum was unbelievable. I’d never experienced such ecstasy! Spurt after spurt flew up into the vacuum funnel above my bed. Unbelievable.

   Away To ETT Clinic

   I was a much better behaved boy 7 weeks later when the Clinic ambulance arrived. Sitting Sideways on Adele’s lap, my arms around her neck. Two burly nurses strapped me onto a gurney, crying my eyes out. The pinch of a needle. Before I passed out, I wondered when I’d stop getting nauseous from Adele’s kisses.

  Mother Gauges, And Surprises Me

   It was several years later. Of course, I knew that “Peeping” at my penis – for any reason – is strictly forbidden, and savagely punished.

   Once in a blue moon, to my screaming sorrow, I screw up. I still do. That last time I did with Mother, I was still living at home, an affianced bachelor, several months before Sandra married me.

   My ballsack was bursting, so I crawled to Mother’s feet and licked between her toes. Males who need frigging do it with relish. As a virile, well-spanked young man, I needed 5 or 6 heavy cums every day.

   Mother stood me up, prick twitching. Squatted between my legs to Gauge me. Milked precum, squeezed testicles. So far, so good (except squeezing always hurts).

   But she surprised me. I shouldn’t have been. She and Adele do it regularly. Mother took several inches of my drooling prick in her mouth, and then squeezed my ballsack again. When full of spunk, it’s round, the size and shape of a grapefruit.

   It was involuntary. I Peeped. The huge flaring cockhead – double the girth of my thick cockshaft – was inside her mouth. Being flicked by her tongue, as she lapped up my continuously dribbling gobs of precum.

  A Few Choice Words On Gauging

   I’ll say it again, because it’s true. Gauging is one of the most arousing things in the world. Every prick responds the same when males see Gauging. And we see it constantly – on sidewalks, in halls, classrooms, offices, shops, restaurants – literally everywhere.

   Nearly naked boys and men meekly being Gauged. Suffering agonies of public humiliation. That, ironically, excites them so much their erect pricks twitch frantically, liberally spewing precum in all directions. Tights at their ankles, shirts above nipples.

   Or - even more shameful – holding skirts above their waists. In pinafores, frocks, sailor dresses, and other girlish garb, with frilly sunbonnets.

   Those bare male fannies invariably display recent Discipline. Severe spankings, mainly. And, as even the youngest girls who give them know, such testicles quickly fill. Hence, the need to Gauge them often. After.

   That brings us to the ladies who Gauge. Girls and women. Tall, strong, and statuesque – strict, stern, and severe – in sexy revealing skirts and blouses or dresses, bare legs or stirrup hose, and 4 inch heel sandals. Heavens above! Quite early in life, I learned to fear and worship them all!

   To see those alluring females squatting between bare male legs, expertly Gauging pricks and testicles. Their round ample bottoms stretching fabric to its limits. Large plump toes bunched, feet arched. Generous titties threatening to spill out of shockingly exposed cleavage.

   Males shiver with desire. That is, when we’re allowed to lift our eyes up from female toes, and watch other males Gauged. I always lusted to see Mother and my sister Gauge me.

  Mother Punishes Me

   I did so with Mother, and paid the awful price. First, she gave me a Triple Enema. Then, 2 hours of Genital Ointment. Next, just as I’d revived, my prick hard and testicles bursting … Switches & Nettles.

   The worst application yet. I was naked and prone for 11 days. Nettle pimples tormented my fanny, bottomcleft, and anus. Cold prostate milkings. Enemas and suppositories. Sponge baths.

   Yet the morning of relief came. Pain and itching gone. For some reason, Mother was wearing a school girl’s uniform and black strappy heels when she carried me (yes. Carried Me) to the bathroom. I pooped all by myself for her. A normal one. It didn’t hurt when she wiped me, bent over hands on knees.

   As she rubbed the moist tissues against my bottomcleft and anus, I leered at her feet. I was anxious for my first normal bath in almost 2 weeks. Ah, the bliss of Mother’s soapy hands on my genitals!

   Imagine my shock and dismay when she led me by my erect (erect!?) prick to the spanking stool. Sat down, hiked her skirt up, erect prick twitching under her nose. Gloved hand, dread short Spencer in it.

   “Keep your eyes on my feet, dear. I’ll know if you don’t.”

   Tears welled up in my eyes. It was so unfair, so cruel! I almost stamped my delicate bare foot on the tile floor, and hollered in outraged grief.

   She and Adele had given me spankings for years by that point. 4, 5, even more daily. When they were away, for vacations and extended weekends, for example, one or the other was usually present.

   I also had a wealth of females in the extended family – young girl cousins to great grandmothers – who were more than willing to strip and put me across their laps.

   Counting them all up (you can, from my Discipline Diary, if you’re female), made me a veteran of literally thousands of spankings. Every one of them a screaming sizzler from a girl or woman who knew Discipline inside out. To my immense chagrin, I never got inured to the pain. Males never do. Discipline always hurts terribly.

   Despite my years of screaming naked across female laps, Mother’s spanking that morning was memorable. Worst of my young life. Terrible. Awful. Unbearable. Undeserved.

   Even now, decades later, the memory sometimes flashes with blinding clarity. Naked at Mother’s feet, sucking her toes. On her lap for kisses. While she fondles me.

   And what do I feel? Terror. Fear. Lust. Love. My prick twitches.