Allison – A Spanking Story Pt. 03

Literotic asexstories – Allison – A Spanking Story Pt. 03 by KimberlyGirl,KimberlyGirl
This story takes place in the Perfect Beginning Universe. It makes brief mention of Michele’s work.

The terms, “boy(s)” and “girl(s)” are used to refer to characters over the ages of 18 years. All characters featured herein are well beyond the threshold of legal age for sex.

For me, first time is always the most exciting. Compounding the excitement is the anxiety experienced when at least one character realizes that they are not the person they thought they were.

This story takes place in a very male dominant society, one which is even more patriarchal than our own. Pete comes to realize that as he falls under Allison’s spell, he does not measure up to societal expectations. These two young people are discovering and becoming as they grow together as a couple.

Psychological conflict and tension are central themes in this story.

*

The following is an outline of how this society operates. The Perfect Beginning provides a slightly more comprehensive description of the universe.

* People are legal adults at 18 years of age.

* People usually live to about 2,000 years of age.

* The cultural norm has almost all legal adults living with their family of origin until they turn 200 years old.

* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 are treated as and referred to as children when they choose to continue living with their parents.

* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 often behave much as we would expect teenagers to behave here in our world. They are kept in a state of arrested emotional development.

* Young people between the ages of 18 and 200 years customarily consume “blockers” which prevent them from having sexual feelings or impulses.

* Some young people will begin to “date” around 160 yers of age and while they are expected to continue to take their blockers, some will surreptitiously stop taking them while a few will stop responding to them.

* Age and masculinity are revered in this world. Everybody looks up to their elders and few seriously question the patriarchy.

All characters in the story are over 18 years of age.

It is customary for those below the age of 200 to demonstrate their status by wearing clothing which signify to others that they are off limits. They would wear what we would think of as children’s clothing. Remember, an 18 year old and a 1,900 year old would look exactly the same age, so children’s clothes are very useful for signaling to those over 200 years to abstain from any romantic or sexual pursuit of another who was deemed of an inappropriate age.

Lastly, sex is not technically illegal for people between the ages of 18 and 200 years. It is considered profoundly taboo. Adult-children (18+) do have sex but it is kept very quiet. Some parents punish their children for engaging in this sinful pleasure and adult-children almost never tell-on one another in this regard, even those who might not like one another. Adult children live by a code and violation of said code subjects one to complete ostracization. Almost none experiment until they are well over 160 years old.

*

Allison was at peace. She was moving in a direction with Peter that was to her liking and she was very much at ease with the process. Being at peace was Allison’s default setting. Perhaps just a girl, but she had been around for 123 years, and in that time, she’d gained some self awareness.

Her mother Carol had encouraged her to consider certain options as though she were an adult.

Too, she was pretty. Men mostly stayed away, but she caught them leering as much as she cared to. Mostly she liked that they wanted her. It felt nice and as it should be. Also she was pleased that despite their attraction, they kept their distance.

And he stays behind the fence. Good boy.

She was off her blockers and felt safe so she could focus on the pleasure of being wanted. Often it aroused her when she felt their attraction in part because everybody knew she was off limits.

She liked to be the beautiful girl they wanted, while she hunted for her own boys.

Allison had all the advantages.

It’s so much better to be a girl.

Even though the world saw her as “just a girl,” she knew she could get any guy she wanted.

And she knew what she wanted. She’d read the Lanza books and took everything from them that she related to and wanted for herself. With her looks, brains and disposition, it was easy for her to get it too.

And she was a girl in all of this. Despite her profound sexuality, she was viewed by society as a girl and she liked viewing herself the same way. Even when enjoying adult pleasure, she did so as a girl. Being a girl was always, in her mind, central to the pleasure she took from it all. She was a big girl. She was a girl who felt and projected as a preternaturally mature girl. She was a very conservative, dignified, proper, good-girl. Allison was proud of herself for being so fundamentally good.

Above all else, she enjoyed being a mature, self possessed good-girl who broke, controlled and used men. She enjoyed showing them that despite all they might have believed about themselves as men, they were just little boys to her. She got off on killing their sense of themselves as men. She wanted to see the light go out in their eyes as she took this from them. She wanted them to know this was done to them by a girl. In this endeavor too, she took tremendous pride.

Allison was an extraordinarily prideful girl.

Girls like Allison, girls that went to church and got good grades understood what it meant to be good. And Allison expected her boys to be very well behaved, good boys who lived in accordance to her rules. Adhering to her rules would, by definition, make them good boys.

Maintaining a good boy was just another point of pride for her.

Over the years, she’d broken several men. And she adored using them for her convenience and pleasure. She greatly enjoyed leaving them broken too. She saw to it that these boys were devoted to her to the point of addiction. And then she smilingly left them standing in a pool of their own tears.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little boy but it can’t be helped. Poor baby…Oh no. I might even enjoy it, but no. If I gave you even one more spanky, even a goodbye spanky, it would only encourage you…No sweetie, you cleaned our home thoroughly just yesterday. We are all good on that front. I’ve found a new boy who will be taking over your responsibilities… That’s a firm ‘no.’ Mother is finished with you as well. Can’t be helped. I’m afraid this is goodbye for good…Now don’t start crying again (giggling.) Okay now, bye-bye.”

Over the course of decades, she’d broken teachers, fathers of some of her friends, boys from school and even the paster at church.

After a break up, she genuinely loved seeing these boys when out and about town. She enjoyed the discomfort they felt when they considered the resultant stress she caused them to endure for her amusement and pleasure. With a little distance, they could separate from their want of her and focus on the taboo, the wrongness of it all, the social boundaries they violated in order to be used by her. Aside from this disonance, she saw their want persisting. She loved knowing that she changed these boys who once thought of themselves as men. Despite their self loathing, they’d crawl back to her and it always made her so very happy.

The only thing better than viewing their discomfort, desire and heart break after a break-up was to put another boy through the process. Breaking a boy was just so delightful to the girl

There really was just so much to be proud of.

And now she had Little Peter. Perhaps it was premature to consider him broken at this point, yet she knew it was only a matter of taking him in hand and guiding him just a bit further before his manhood was forever devastated and she could consider him property.

He was different. She’d told her mother that Peter might become very important to them. Peter was a hypersexual and this was her greatest find. The chances of breaking a man that was also a hypersexual was slim, but she’d done it. Too, she was very attracted to him. She was way too confident and composed to feel anxious, but she knew she wanted him. For Allison, the attractive, hypersexual boy was the ultimate discovery and breaking him would be her greatest accomplishment. The opportunity to own a boy like this would not come along often, so she had to consider, for the first time, if she’d want to deviate from how she’d enjoyed herself in the past and actually keep this boy as her own.

Well, to be owned with Mother, of course.

*

Carol was a patient woman. She was a woman who was mindfully self composed and patience was central to this preferred way of looking out at the world as well as being seen by the world. In her mind, the allowance of time to perceive and appreciate often presented an intrinsic reward. When she accepted that social interactions played out at their own pace, she felt a greater sense of harmonic pleasure. Impatience had its place and time but was usually every bit as much of a mindful practice and was selectively practiced with boys.

She looked forward to her daughter’s response.

*

“I admit that as I began reading it, I wondered if any of it was real. I mean…”

Carol knew what she meant. Michele Lanza presented a whole different way of looking at the world.

“Yes, it was… revelatory. There is a lot to it all. Yet I suspect, because we are so much alike, beautiful daughter, that it stopped your pretty, little heart only because you wanted it to be real. Of course that was my reaction.”

“Certainly, Mother. She’s amazing and what she…”

Carol smiled. It was not often that her brilliant daughter stumbled in her expression.

They were discussing GOT, Girls on Top While Chaste. It was a somewhat subversive text as it presented a radical new way of seeing the world and a girl’s place in it. GOT was an alternative to the Good Girls Manual that was taught to girls all throughout their decades of schooling.

*

The Manual made clear to them their place in society. Women were to be happily subservient to men. Women were to obey their male counterparts in most things and to look to men for general guidance. Perhaps nowhere was this more important than in the bedroom. The average man of this world preferred sexual release two to three times a day over the course of an eighteen hundred year sexual lifespan. It was clearly understood that in this capacity, women were to sexually service men. This was their duty.

Good girls were put on earth to support men as pretty, eager to please subordinates. Just about any girl would smilingly tell you that they were honored to submit to a man that loved them and that catering to the right partner was something to live for. While the research on this was murky, it was generally believed that at least ninety percent of women preferred a dominant, male partner and subservient lifestyle for themselves.

At 200 years of age, after going off their blockers for the first time, many girls went to live for a couple of months at an academy. Here they were acclimated to a whole new sexual lifestyle. Hypersexual men could make quite a good living teaching young women how to find their own pleasure while seeking to satisfy men. Attendance was strictly voluntary so those who enrolled tended to be the most enthusiastic young learners who graduated with a sense of pride about what they could achieve in the bedroom while pleasing a man. Many even projected a sense of superiority over their less well educated sisters when it came to satisfying the right man and thought themselves not just better educated, but superior lovers to their future partners.

Certainly some viewed this lifestyle to be not quite right for them. Though still a small minority, there was a growing number of women who simply did not relate to the Good Girls Manual.

*

“I want this.”

Mother continued to beam her smile.

She is so my daughter.

*

“Hmmmm, let me think… I suppose what I find most interesting…or one of the many things I find interesting,” she smiled with everything she had, “is the idea that I can use a man’s sexual desire for me to break him.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Carol agreed.

“I think it is because we have been taught, since we were little girls that the engine of his desire, his cock, is a big part of why men are superior to women. Or at least that is the physical symbol of their superiority. I like how Lanza views their desire of us as not just an advantage, but a strength… or the leverage that can be used to invert the entire world view of male superiority and hegemony.”

“Yes!”

“I don’t see myself as a revolutionary, Mother, but like you, I’m a little different.”

*

After dropping her blockers, she discovered her sex drive was at least a match for the average man and like her mother, preferred at least three orgasms a day. Sometimes more. She was so grateful they had Elliot, her brother, to use for this important purpose.

*

Lanza made clear in all her books that she was living her truth and hoped that all girls and women would do likewise. If a woman preferred living her whole life subordinate to a man, great! That was to be enjoyed.

Yet there was nothing at all wrong with women holding the reins of power over a man…or boy as she was fond of referring to them as.

There were boys learning of this alternative way too. None of this was normal, but it was far more acceptable to be a dominant woman than to be a submissive boy.

*

Both mother and daughter held definitive views and strong beliefs in the benefits of corrective discipline. Boys behaved so much better when taught and guided by a woman or strong girl; therefore discipline was good for them. Spanking was viewed as a natural expression of a woman’s love for a boy.

Spanking is love.

Considering how beneficial spanking was for the boy and the relationship, the sexual gratification each woman took from administering a spanking made perfect sense. Mother and daughter each enjoyed regular orgasms while spanking their boys.

Each viewed the administration of discipline as a sacred duty. Spanking was so purely good and noble it was integrated into their religion. Spanking became both ceremonial and highly ritualized.

*

Elliot usually took his lunch break at home. He did this every day so that he and his mother could share their Mother/son time in private. Allison would be at school.

“Elliot, come here, young man.” He was beckoned to Mother’s bedroom.

Elliot was going to get a spanking. Elliot knew he was always going to get a spanking, from his passionately loving mother.

Love Mommy so much!

The only question in his mind was whether her intention was to administer a spanking or a spanky. He prayed the later and as was usual, always a bit aprehensive.

By now, Mother had been conditioning him for decades. His sense of himself as a man was long forgotten. Elliot was a well behaved boy so naturally he knew spankings were good for him. That did not mean they were not scary. Even spankies hurt some. Elliot had come to know that he was a very fortunate boy to be so loved by his mother

Certainly his mother would not spank him if she did not love him. Yet spankings were frightening and he hoped and prayed that his loving and very strict mother sought only to put him over her knee for some play time. Strict love was the best love for Elliot.

For Mommy to love me.

While spankies always hurt some, they were much easier to handle than real discipline or punishment. Whether just nervous at the prospect of a spanky or quite frightened of a pending punishment, his cock always responded in anticipation.

Because Mommy loves me.

Mother’s love was what Elliot lived for.

Carol had taught him that when his cock hardened for her, it was a sign of his perverted love for her. It also showed him how right the spanking was and how good it was for him. The love, the goodness and the fear sometimes filled him with a degree of anxiety but he was grateful to accept Mother’s wisdom and guidance.

“And if that feels confusing, to feel love and fear at the same time, Little Elliot, that’s understandable too; after all, you are just a boy.” Carol trace tickled Elliots hard cock with the tip of her fingernail. Elliot thought his mother was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Little boys can be such silly heads. Mother will guide you. Always trust mother’s love.”

Out of breath, “Yes, Mother.”

*

As ever, Elliot was both eager and anxious as he approached this special time of day. With each step from the front door to his mother’s bedroom, his anticipation of love and fear seemed to double such that when he actually reached her door, he was all but trembling.

There was always the possibility of a very hot bottom with all the love bestowed upon him.

On this occasion, he was thrown off. His pretty sister Allison was with Mother, sitting primly on the padded bench Mother had at the foot of her king size bed.

Something wrong?

She had her hands in her lap and as ever, she sat with spine and neck, completely erect and she had an eager, almost excited smile on her face. His sister was so very dignified that expressions of open excitement were a rarity. They were about to become just a little bit less rare.

Carol had been enjoying her special Mother/son relationship for a few decades and until now, Allison had been kept in the dark about it all. Allison was only in her 50s, had been on her blockers and since Carol had not sought this new lifestyle for her daughter, she and Elliot shared this aspect of their relationship in private. Certainly Allison had seen Elliot in Mother’s bed almost nightly but Carol explained to Allison that Elliot slept in her bed because he suffered nightmares. Allison thought her elder brother not the most manly older brother but they kept this family shame on the hush-hush.

Why is Allison here?

Carol was a thoughtful and enlightened mother. She knew well that different children had different needs and as a committed mother, she saw to each of her children’s needs. Allison had been off her blockers for a few weeks and with the effects completely out of her system, a demonstration seemed appropriate. Mother and daughter had discussed it at length yet poor Elliot had no idea what was coming.

*

“It’s no longer an ordinary bedroom, Allison. My bed chamber is a sacred temple and has been for a few decades now. It was especially important to me that Elliot understand that when he was admitted here, he was stepping into what is essentially a church.

“I’m pleased that your time has come, that you are ready to be a young lady or as you like to think: a mature girl.” She smiled warmly as her lovely daughter. “I too appreciate that you enjoy being a girl and want to venture into all this as such. I think it darling.

“It will be nice to stretch our relationship more completely within the walls of our home. In this way, we will make it more wholesome and loving. This will be very good for Elliot as I want him to better know his place in a home.

“And I am very excited for you, Allison. You are going to have what I never had and it will be so very special to you.”

“How do you mean, Mother?”

Carol caressed the side of Allison’s beautiful face with her hand in the most gentle and loving gesture. “What I mean is that this will be not just formative for you, but truly lovely. You are special, Allison. You are different and you deserve a different experience. You deserve what I wish I had had for myself, what all young women like us deserve but so very, very few of us receive.”

She was pretty sure what her mother meant but hearing from Carol was reassuring and comforting to the girl.

“You will get to experience something magical and beautiful. You will come to understand the kind of love that can only happen between a woman and a boy. You will take your pleasure, lovely daughter and it will satisfy like nothing you have ever known.

“Conversely, you will not have to endure a man taking from you what you were not meant to give. Should the day come that you want to experience lying with a man, that will be at your discretion. That’s fine too if it’s what you want. And there is no harm in bit of variation.

“This is where your heart is, Allison. You have made this clear: you belong on top. I’m so very proud of you.”

*

“Position yourself, Elliot.”

She sounded as ever like herself, but somehow Allison detected something more, a tone that was slightly more imperious than usual.

“But, Mother, Allison…” Elliot was clearly distraught. This was their special private time. Why was his sister with them?

Mother strode purposefully to her son near the entrance to her bed chamber and promptly slapped him squarely and quite forcefully across the face.

Instantly Allison experienced a spike of envy and arousal. What her mother did was somehow at once both savage and elegant. It was more than that: it was a profound signifier or overt, demonstrative dominance and to Allison, it was breath takingly beautiful. Mother looked beautiful, sexual and immensely imperious. She was frightening.

Mother is so pretty. This is what it looks like. This is how it feels.

Oh and look! Oh, look, look, look!

She watched as Elliot’s penis grew quite large in his pants. She was delighted.

Magic!

The feel was vicarious, of course but Allison could feel in her imagining just how wonderful it would be to do to a boy what she just witnessed Mother doing.

Oh my stars, that would feel good!

Elliot had been slapped before, but he could never get used to it. It was, of course, the most startling and sudden affront one could endure. And of course he felt his penis stiffen and hated himself for it.

I always do that. I’ll always be a little boy.

He despaired.

A flood of emotion burst forth and threatened to spill out before his sister.

It had been years since Elliot experienced anything like manful pride but he did take comfort from the thin veneer that hid from the world, including his little sister, that he was nothing but a little boy in a young man’s body.

“Mommy, please!”

And then he referred to his mother as Mommy which until now had only ever been done in private for it was a reference that aroused and shamed him deeply.

Elliot was demonstrably upset, on the edge of hysterical. As ever, he clung to the dignified image of manhood and he was desperate to maintain it in front of his little sister. The only reason he could bear to look at her when emerging from Mother’s bedroom in the morning was that Allison did not rub his nose in it. Giving in to the fear of nightmares was what little boys were want to do but hardly appropriate for an emerging man which was what he was supposed to be in the eyes of his little sister.

“I won’t ask again, Ellie. Do as I say this instant.”

Clearly brow beaten, “Yes, Mother.” He scurried to obey.

Why is she doing this!!! Why, oh my god, why? Allison! In front of Allison!

He realized he was having a hard time breathing and hoped not to pass out.

Elliot retrieved Mother’s hairbrush from her vanity and stood next to the opposite end of the bench his sister sat upon. He stood there wanting to disappear, wanting to disassociate. When Mother slapped him, it suggested he might have crossed the line and forced her hand on the question of punishment.

“Now, your dear sister Allison is going to assist me here. Isn’t that nice of her?”

No.

Allison was nice in all things, but he did not agree that she was being especially nice in this capacity.

Her “assistance” struck him as lunacy a complete outrage. He prayed Allison would just up and leave. He hoped all the weirdness would make her uncomfortable and drive her away. He had no idea she was specifically there for all the “weirdness.” The pleased and mildly excited look on his sister’s face puzzled him.

Now she’ll know! She’ll know about me!

“To me, Elliot,” said Allison in a warm but firm manner.

Instantly he was before his seated sister with his hands behind his back.

Elliot was steeped in the importance and sometimes urgent importance of obedience.

On some level, even with his sister, he was obedient-ish. That is to say, he knew he was obeying his sister but hoped she viewed it all as him just being nice, supportive and caring. Elliot tried to play it off as him being an extra nice big brother. He was all these things of course because if ever his mother caught him being otherwise with his little sister, Mother would have thoughts on the matter. These sorts of thoughts prompted spankings. Too, deviation from expected polite, subservient behavior could prove the catalyst that might cause Mother to reveal Elliot’s shame. So he never acted like he was hopping-to an order from his little sister even when in his mind, he was.

She reached for his button fly and he came very close to reaching out and stopping her. He would have paid dearly for that and was grateful to have restrained himself.

It was happening! His own sister’s elegantly long fingers were playing over his erection as she slowly unbottoned his fly. She was going to see! And she was moving so maddeningly slow. It was almost as thought she were drawing it out.

After drawing down two buttons, “Is this how, Mother?”

With warmth, “Of course. You are doing very well, Darling.”

Allison smiled. Certainly this was fun, but there was more to it all. Allison loved being a good girl. She loved being Mother’s little assistant. While she and Elliot mostly had a good relationship, she always loved being Mother’s favorite. Allison would always be the preferred child in all things.

She’s going to see everything! Oh my fucking god, NO! Please, please, please, no!

Mother had guided him so far along a profoundly shameful journey, yet his life was highly compartmentalized and only a few knew who he really was. His sanity clung to the belief he could hide it all from the rest of the world. He did not now how that would actually work in the long term as Mother made her plans clear to him; he clung nonetheless.

Exposure to his pure and innocent sister was devastating. What made it so much worse was his knowing of just how conservative Allison was. To his knowledge, she fully bought into the ethos of male hegemony.

She split his fly as though peeling a banana. Eliot’s wide eyes were pools of misery as he looked down at what she was doing to him as she unwittingly touched her own brother’s turgid penis.

She doesn’t even know what a hardon is!

She smiled up at him, delighted by his show of mortification.

Already she should know something was wrong from both the bulge and the color.

Slowly pulling down his pants, “Oh Mother, you keep Lil’ Ellie in little girl panties! Look at Ellie’s little dicky-penis is all excited in his little girl panties!” she said excitedly. In the voice used to speak to a toddler, “Is Lil’ Ellie my big brother or my little sister?”

As she appraised him with the most evil smile, he almost fainted.

Was he even supposed to answer her? “I don’t…”

“No. You don’t know, do you?”

“I don’t…I can’t…”

Cutting in, “In position, Elliot. Don’t keep Mother waiting.”

He never wanted to keep Mother waiting and quickly positioned himself. He was held hostage to each passing moment and simply could not comprehend what was just about to happen. Yet in that moment was the realization. He knew Allison was going to see him get a spanking.

It’s happening.

Not even yet over Mother’s knee and a single tear spilled down his cheek.

Allison took it all in with a sense of joyous amazement.

Look at him! He used to be a young man. Now he’s a little boy! Now he’s our little boy!

While she understood all this was possible, seeing was believing.

Yes, it’s all real! My stars! Lovely!

Mother was so at peace and enjoyed every slow moving moment of this perfect, beautiful ritual. Her eyes were half mast, stoned on her own relaxed, sexual pleasure, a hint of a smile on her lips, Carol slowly drew down her son’s pink cotton, little girl panties exposing his flexing cock. She looked to her daughter and noted the pleasure on her face. The two felt a sense of loving solidarity, a loving mother/daughter bond.

They looked to Elliot who stood with the most beautiful tear streaking down his face, looking and sounding absolutely traumatized as the poor boy simply could not catch his breath. His cock saluted them.

Typically Elliot would not be crying at this point. Carol knew he did so with the sense of devastation he experienced while being exposed to his little sister. Another little part of him was dying and she was absolutely tickled. How she loved nurturing her son.

We will get all those big-man thoughts out of his pretty little head.

Carol simply loved being a mother.

Allison was sexualy excited but completely at ease. She knew with certainty that she belonged here. “Mother, may I… would it be alright if I touch it?” While she’d seen images, until now, she’d never seen a cock in the flesh. She was eager for the education and wanted to further her brother’s humiliation at her pretty hand.

“Why of course, Honey,” she replied encouragingly. “You can touch it any time you like. I’d like you to think of it as yours now too.

“I took ownership of Ellie’s penis… goodness, how long has it been? Years ago.”

Allison reached out and began to gently caress it.

“When Elliot’s little penis began getting hard, we decided that it would be best if I took ownership of it. I did not want little Ellie here to do anything foolish and get in trouble. Isn’t that right, Elliot?”

Sounding out of breath, “Yes, Mother.”

“It really is for the best.”

She enjoyed watching her pretty daughter gently handle her son. She noticed that while Elliot closed his eyes to concentrate on the wonderful feelings his sister was giving him, he likely did it also to close out the wonderfully humiliating reality playing out before him.

Carol felt so good as she admired a single tear drop from his jaw.

“Be careful now, Allison. If you are too enthusiastic…

“Elliot, what happens if your sister is too enthusiastic in handling her penis?” she prompted.

“I’ll…I’ll have a little boy accident and make a… make a cummie, Mommy. I’m sorry.”

Elliot was used to apologizing for this as it was a source of near constant shame.

“Tell your sister, Elliot, is that what grown men do? Do grown men make little boy accidents just from a little touching?”

This was an important control point, Carol had established from the beginning. She helped Elliot realize how “deficient” he was in this capacity and that because of his tendency for accidents, he could never please a woman or be considered a real man.

The two had laid in bed for hours watching porno in order to demonstrate what a real man could do with his cock. Carol had a favorite male actor she enjoyed watching who had a cock that was not just beautiful to her, but enormous. It seemed he could fuck for hours and cum anytime he felt like it. In Carol’s mind, he was “Mr. Reliable.”

*

“Now that’s a cock, Elliot.”

The actresses all seemed to be in heat and were cuming almost continuously.

“That’s what a real man can do. Is that you, Little Ellie?”

The fact that she often called him “Little Ellie” framed the question for the boy.

“No, Mommy.”

*

With this exceptional example, Elliot now understood what a real man could do. In contrast, Mother could make his little winky cum in less than two minutes with the right stimulation. Carol greatly enjoyed repeating this particular ritual every now and then as she so got off on helping Elliot see himself as she preferred. Nearly every single thing Carol did to sublimate her son’s sense of independence, agency or confidence aroused her profoundly.

A Momma’s boy was a dependent boy.

“Grown men have control, Allison. I…I…I sometimes make little boy accidents. I’m sorry.

Allison’s sense of wonder and marvel was all over her pretty face.

Allison enjoyed squeezing his cock at the base. She squeezed as hard as she could and his only reaction was to almost lose his footing as his knees momentarily buckled. She thought the whole thing rather delightful.

“Here, watch this,” Mother instructed.

Allison released her possessive hold so Mother could demonstrate.

“Sometimes this can prevent him from making an accident when I think he might be getting too close.” She then flicked her middle finger right on the head of Elliot’s erection, snapping it quite hard and audibly.

Once more, his knees buckled, though this time in pain. He caught himself and kept his hands clasped behind his back as he’d been trained.

“And sometimes… well sometimes it’s just a fun little thing to do.”

The two laughed with the shared excitement of it all.

Just for fun. Oh my! And she gets to do this anytime she wants!

Allison’s jaw dropped into a giant smile of pure joy and wonder. The big eyed “oh my!” was all over her face.

“Oh Mother,” she asked excitedly, “can I do it?”

“Of course. Like it said, it belongs to you too now.”

Biting her lower lip, she used her thumb to cock her index finger ready to strike the head of Elliot’s penis, just as her mother did. She paused, looking up at her brother to take in his dread. His eyes were closed from the trauma and tears streaked his face.

Sweetly, “Look, Elliot, said Allison, “I want you to see it too.”

He obeyed, however reluctantly. This was clearly nerve wracking to the young man.

She let loose and snapped it very hard right on the poor, lucky boy’s cock-head. His whole body startled and he emitted a stifled whimper. He knew well that loud gasps irritated Mother and had learned to keep the sounds of his suffering down to a level Mother preferred.

“It sort of shocks him away from an accident. Yet if you were to keep flicking it, eventually that would cause him to have an accident too.”

Allison was amazed and realized she’d like to see that.

Oh wait, I can watch that. Now I can do that! Goodness gracious, how wonderful!

Carol interjected, “Here, watch this.”

To Elliot, “Spread ’em.”

Elliot anticipated this possibility and had already prayed for mercy.

There would be none, of course.

After he’d spread his legs slightly, she swung her hand up and gave Elliot a moderate slap to the balls. Once more he emitted a high pitched, semi-stifled whimper of pain and despair.

Mother and daughter looked to one another sharing their joy.

“May I?” She already knew she could but Allison believed in the importance of polity and she would only ever show herself to be the well mannered good girl that she knew herself to be.

Mother nodded and smiled her approval.

With the flat of her hand, she gave her brother a rather sharp slap to his balls. Unfortunately, Elliot dropped to the ground and curled into a ball with his reaction. Despite the preoccupation with his pain, a pain so acute, it snaked up into his lower abdomen, he was relieved to hear his mother and sister laughing as he knew Mother would be less inclined to punish him for breaking position.

After a short while, allowing him to frantically rock himself to recovery, Mother directed him to his feet once more. Once standing, “Oh, Elliot,” said in gentle admonishment, “that was barely a tap. You delicate, little boy.

“Now, young man, I’d like you to look your little sister in the eye and tell her why your mommy is going to spank your bottom for you.”

Openly distressed, “Please, Mommy, do I have to?”

Smiling and in a calm, pleased tone, “Yes, Ellie, you have to.”

Elliot knew he was walking a fine line here. He did not want to overtly question his mother but with a gentle prompt, perhaps she’d realize she was being just the least bit unfair.

Of course the unfairness was obvious. The unfairness was the point, after all. Yet so distraught was the boy, he missing the point of this new twist.

In the gentlest voice he could find, “But…but why doesn’t Allison get spankings too? Why just me?”

“You know exactly why you get spankings, Elliot and you are going to tell your pretty sister why it is so good that you get regular spankings. And I think if you search through all your little boy thoughts, you would realize why Allison does not get spankings as you do.”

There were obvious reasons she was not being spanked as he was. To begin with, Elliot knew he was perversely engaged in completely inappropriate sexual relationship with his own mother. The whole thing was his fault.

*

It did not help that his mother was as attractive as she was. She was not quite as tall as Allison and she had a few more curves than his super svelte sister. Yet her body looked exactly as it did the day she turned 18 and her face was just as stunning as his sister’s. Not that he’d ever cared much about their looks. Not when he was on his blockers, at least.

Too, it did not help that mother was wearing the most adorable baby-doll lingerie with a gossamer thin, semi transparent bolero short sleeve “jacket” that did more to attract admiration than to cover up her body. Over the course of decades, He’d seen Mother in her less conservative, domestic wear. Often he’d seen her in very revealing clothes. He’d gotten peeks of nudity. That had never mattered and he did not care as he had zero reaction to any of it.

If he’d taken time, he might have noticed that in the last couple weeks, he’d seen a bit extra as his friends were fond of saying when seeing a bit more skin.

Girls in revealing or “sexy” clothes seemed so objectively stupid to Elliot and his guy friends as it was not sexy to a bunch of guys on blockers. It just seemed a desperate attention getter. “Dude, Janet is showing extra. Yawn.”

Mom was showing a bit extra but it was in her own home and clearly she just wanted to feel comfortable.

But she really is so very pretty!

Had he taken stock, he’d have realized that over the course of the last ten days or so, he’d paid a little more attention to how his mother and sister looked. It just so happened that in this same period of time, his mother was home just a bit more than was usual, while Allison’s time was scheduled between tennis and her whole equestrian obsession.

Still, Mother’s revealing clothes and amazing body meant nothing to him. For some reason, he found himself just paying more attention to Mother.

She has the smoothest, most toned legs. God, her skin!

He entertained a disturbing vision of rubbing lotion into his mother’s strong legs.

It did not mean anything but they did look nice.

She was somewhat busy and had reason to parade back and forth before him as he went about his homework. Initially, it bugged him because she was making too much noise and it distracted him. She had her hair up and he just noticed how much she looked like that European actress, Brigitte Bardo.

Her lips are so pouty.

He found himself staring.

He put away his math as his mind just didn’t seem right for math at the moment. Drawing his lit book from his backpack he glanced up and saw Mother reaching to put away a dish in a high cupboard. In profile, she was on tippy-toes and her top showed her breasts in profile. They seemed to hold his attention as they were somehow very pretty. He knew they looked just as they did when she hit puburty and he appreciated how firm they were and how her pretty and prominantly point nipples sloped upward.

Just then he felt lucky to have such a pretty mother. Yet she was bugging the shit out of him as she was just so distracting and he could not understand how she did not notice he was doing homework.

The book his Russian Lit teacher wanted them to read was boring as dried shit on a Triscuit and he just could not seem to get any headway on it. The separate, perhaps more intriguing programing had Mother standing at the kitchen counter perusing the mail. It was not as though he did not understand that objectively his mother had what the whole world would think of as an amazing body, but just then he realized he was staring.

Her ass!

Suddenly her ass amazed him.

Oh my fucking god! Like, how did I not realize? It’s like…perfection!

It was like realizing that after 70 something years of living together, his mother had Superman powers. With the realization, how could one not be a little taken aback by it.

But her ass is so…

All along, Carol was surreptitiously assessing her young man. And she was pleased by what she saw. Clearly, he was looking at her differently.

“Elliot,” she began as she crossed over to him holding open a junk-mail fashion catalog, “I’d like your opinion on this outfit.”

“Mom,” he began in exasperation, “I’m trying to study.”

“Why, Elliot,” she began with a scowl that morphed into an amused smile, “how dare you speak to your mother that way!” Clearly Mother was in a rare, carefree, playful mood.

Elliot had no idea what it was like to be flirted with.

Realizing his over reaction, “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m just trying to…”

“You are a bad, little boy, Elliot,” she said affecting both “hurt” and amusement. She went from pout to smile and he was dazzled. As much as he needed to complete his studies, Elliot found himself drawn into his mother’s play act.

Smiling, “I’m sorry, Mom. I did not mean to be rude.”

“Rude you most certainly were and your’ve hurt your mother’s feelings. Stand up, young man.”

He would go along with her silliness. It was not as though he was getting work done. And his mother was so pretty he wanted to go along with her. Never in his life was he under the influence of sexualized beauty.

He smiled and stood before his mother. She clasped his wrist, “Come with me.”

Still smiling broadly, “Where are you taking me?”

“To my bedroom of course. It’s where I always spank you.”

Always?

He’d not been spanked in decades.

She must have had a drink or maybe popped a pinkie before he came home because his mother was NEVER this silly. He was sure this was all insane but he could not wipe the smile from his face as she pulled him into her room. He was laughing.

Continuing with her game, “How dare you laugh at your own mother!” she scolded.

Smiling broadly, “I’m sorry, Mom, I just…”

“Clearly you are not at all sorry, young man,” she responded archly. Mother sat down on the padded bench that ran the foot of her bed. She reached for his belt and fly.

“Mom, come on,” he laughed. Clearly the game had gone on long enough. He knew he they were about to cross a line traveling from silly fun to weird. He realized she was committed to it so he just kept laughing. “You have not spanked me in decades, Mom.”

“And I’d say it’s high time I spanked your naughty, little boy bottom again.”

With those words and the sensation her Mother prepping to lower his pants, he felt himself slipping. At once he was remembering his childhood and what it was like to be a boy. He remembered getting in trouble even when he wanted to be a good boy. He remembered the spankings and the feelings of being totally out of control of what was happening to his body. He remembered the fear, the anxiety and the pain.

It got hard to breathe.

He was vaguely aware that his mother was gently yanking his pants down. Elliot traveled inward.

There was something too that was so captivating about Mother’s stern tone, even if it was playful and he wanted to please her again. And even her voice sounded pretty to him. In those moments, when she disciplined him, she was his whole world. Once more, she was that. Nothing existed but Mother.

With his pants at his ankles, he was drawn over her knees. Clearly this was all weird. Yet in a society that employed blockers, a bit of nudity was not quite so scandalous as it would be otherwise. Mother was just having her fun and despite the flood of flashback emotions, so was Elliot.

Once bent over her knee he felt some trepidation. As a boy, this was a very, very scary place to be. It all rushed up on him and he felt all the fear and tension all at once. He reminded himself it was all play and worked to calm himself.

In a strangely but not at all unpleasant, breathy voice, “You naughty,” spank “naughty, naughty,” spank spank “naughty,” spank “little boy.” spank spank spank

He realized her tone would be appropriately voiced to a 5 year old and she was only gently, playfully spanking his bottom.

He felt almost dizzy. At once he was contending with residual fear and anxiety of previous spankings while simultaneously realizing just how good this all felt. Like really good.

Gooder than ever! Ever. Mmmmmmm, Mommy.

Sounding somehow emotionally hurt and stern at the same time. “How dare you speak to your mother that way!”

spank spank spank spank spank spank spank spank

Clearly she was not spanking hard and she was just using her hand. It was all play.

He found he was breathing deeply could not believe how “fun” this all was. He did not know he was pressing his hardon into his mother’s thigh as he’d never had an erection in his life, did not know he had one and knew he was not capable of having one so of course he had no idea.

“Oh, you little wiggle-worm,” his mother teased as she began very gently tickling him.

Had he any bedroom experience, he’d recognize the difference between the sudden and frantic manner one might use to play with a child verse the lighter, more sensual tickling one might use to provoke a lover.

Her fingernails played over his ribs and down his spine and he felt goose bumps called to attention. Speaking to him as though he were seven years old, “Who’s Mommy’s silly, little boy?”

Elliot found it was hard to catch his breath. “I am, Mommy.” He heard his own voice and was thrown off. It was not delivered with the laughter of just a moment ago. It sounded stressed and strangely passionate.

Passionate? What?

On top of the whole spanking PTSD he was just experiencing, he felt troubled by this realization too.

Mother’s hand playfully tickled into his crotch. Again spoken as though from an adult to a very small boy, “Bad little boy! Good thing you’re not done with your spanking!”

Breathlessly, “Yes, Mommy.” He realized he was desperate for more spanking.

Yes, Mommy, spank me!

At once the whole game shifted.

“Elliot…?” There was something foreboding in Mother’s tone. It did not sound like play. “Why you’re not… You can’t.”

Elliot felt his mother reach with her right hand over his hip and down to his crotch area. She grabbed him somewhere and it both startled him and felt incredible. She squeezed firmly but he had no idea what of his she was even holding onto. She squeezed and let go repeatedly three times. Later he just assumed she wanted to be sure what it was she was assessing.

“Why, Elliot! Oh my goodness gracious. Stand up! Stand up this instant, young man.”

Elliot was scared, She sounded like he might actually be in trouble. It made no sense at all as he’d clearly not done anything. Obviously.

Repeating herself as he seemed not to be moving fast enough, “This instant.”

As stressful as it was to go over Mother’s knee, even in play, now he did not want to move. He seemed to be in a bit of a daze, actually. Yet he roused himself as he did not want to upset Mother.

Once standing, he was struck dumb. His penis was standing, rock hard.

What the fuck!

“Oh my goodness, young man! What is the meaning of this?”

“I don’t… I can’t…”

He did not know how to answer because he couldn’t. He had no idea what was going on.

Mother looked genuinely upset and when Mother got upset, and it did not happen often, she was fucking scary.

In that moment, Elliot felt considerably smaller than the hardon he was saluting his mother with.

“For now, I don’t even want to get into the question of whether or not you are taking your blockers!”

“I am!” he interjected frantically. He needed her to know this was not his fault.

She held her son’s rock hard penis right at the base and gently squeezed. He found it difficult to breathe. Looking him in the eye, and to Elliot, his mother had never looked more serious, she said, “Elliot, I’ve never been more disappointed in you.”

She began to rhythmically squeeze the base of his cock and he was riveted to the floor.

Elliot was experiencing a sense of near complete powerlessness for the first time in memory.

Mother was clearly just making a point with the pulsing squeeze but poor Elliot lost his mind with it.

*

None of it was his mother’s fault. It was his penis that got all hard for her when she gave him his first playful spanky.

Also he knew Allison did not get spankings because she was just so much better than him.

“Allison does not get spankings because she is a good girl, and you know that. Also, while Allison is so very, very young, she behaves as does a young lady. Am I mistaken?”

Mother was never mistaken. “No, Mother.”

Decades older than Allison, he could not remember when he last thought of Allison as immature. It was as though she’d entered the world as a mature, young lady. This became all the more clear to Elliot when Mother, years ago, helped him see he was just a little boy. He always behaved himself and despite loving his little sister, he resented her for possessing the maturity and resultant dignity he would never have.

And then Mother stated it for all to hear. “Your sister has always been more mature than you, Elliot. She’s a young lady and you are just a little boy. Tell her what you are.”

“I’m… I’m just a little boy, Allison. I’m sorry.”

More tears streamed down his face and Allison was infatuated. She was not infatuated with her brother, rather she was in love with what they were doing to him. She’d never been more invigorated in her whole life. Her whole mind and body was vibrating with vitality. Her skin was so tight and had she not been wearing her training bra, her little titties would, she was sure, punch holes through her blouse. Her pussy was on fire.

“So why do you get spankings, Elliot,” Carol prompted.

“Because… be… because, I…”

“Because why, Elliot?” Carol was smiling brightly and made no effort to hide her amusement.

“Because…because my… my little boy penis gets… oh god, my little boy penis gets all hard for Mommy.” Elliot was now blubbering in a nearly incomprehensible ramble. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“And there you have it, Allison. Your brother is a little boy pervert. This is what we do with little boys.