Allison - A Spanking Story Pt. 16

What I do to Elliot within this section, on the surface is admittedly mean. By this I mean it ranges beyond the sort of eroticised abuse all the rest of the storyline is defined by. I don't have it out for Elliot. Laughing. I am laughing because a couple of trolls, (weird pastime) have complained that what I have written is not loving enough, romantic enough, or in some other way, possessing sufficient warmth and sunshine. They claimed to want something more approaching a loving, romantic, femdom relationship. What a great thing to have in one's life. It's simply not what I am writing about and I think it was pretty well indicated on the tags. Perhaps in a future story? We shall see.

*

I think this has one more chapter. Maybe 2.

*

This story takes place in a very male-dominated 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 years 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 signalling 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.

*

A fine boy.

Mother beheld her boy and took stock of her feelings about him, the relationship they had and the life they shared in this loving home.

She brushed a strand from his forehead.

He was her son and the product of her design.

Ellie breathed deeply from his mother's perfect crotch as a shiver of desire traveled his spine.

Carol smiled as she felt him tremble.

Mommy's little one. Yes, good boy, need Mommy!

She loved when he teasingly tickled her crotch as he drove himself crazy with her scent.

Her continued attention, loving guidance and corrective hand had fashioned Elliot into a fine boy. All of it was her doing.

Carol's conquest served as a validation and greatly expanded her sense of possibility. Hence forth, she used her insights and killer looks to bring other men to their knees. With her confidence at an all time high, she was queen of her domain.

Elliot had been striding, somewhat eagerly toward what he presumed was his just dessert. He'd not been arrogant or in some other way overcompensating for some insecurity as he looked forward to his future life as a man, yet manhood was his prized ambition.

Carol had other plans for her son and considering he'd had decades to envision himself as the future, independent, self-realized Man, she was all the more pleased by her accomplished intervention on this important matter. Certainly pleased, but also prideful. She viewed her son, his place in the world and perhaps most importantly, how he viewed himself as a product of her aptitude and devotion as a mother.

Elliot was a forever-boy. Elliot was a panty-boy. Elliot's sense of self dead-ended with the understanding of himself as a thing. Inelegant perhaps and that was why he did not want to see himself as such, but he knew it to be true every time he dismissed his own ambition on any matter, no matter how trivial, no matter how consequential, should it conflict with Mother's preference, or even what he honestly imagined was mother's preference.

What would Mother say?

What would Mother want of me?

He did not like to think of himself as a thing, but he knew he was.

Always obey Mother.

His life was more pleasurable when he comported himself in accordance with this basic understanding. Failure in this regard almost certainly ended in tears. For these tears, he had only himself to blame.

There were hidden thoughts to the contrary, yet they were fleeting. "That's so unfair!" or, "She's being so mean!" were occasionally considered in the run up to a spanking, yet he knew it was self deception, a deflection, born of fear and concocted as a voiceless protest and justification for why he should not be spanked. In more harmonious times, he'd view his behavior as the irrational, indignity of the impotent child he knew himself to be. Mother could never be blamed for the correction he asked for. It was not as though he was unaware of what his selfishness, willfulness or bad attitude would call forth from his ever loving Mother. Mother was devoted to him in this way.

He made mistakes and Mother corrected him.

Mother was ever vigilant as a devoted, loving mother should be. Once she discovered who Ellie really was, Mother assumed a great responsibility. Though he'd been spanked countless times since, he'd never forget how his life changed on a dime. In an unusually playful mood, Mother had initiated a silly game in which she justifiably spanked him over her pretty knees. So powerful was his psychological reaction, he experienced his first ever erection. His poor mother was so distraught and her powerful upset forever more framed how he viewed himself. Instead of turning him out as he imagined most mothers would after discovering that her son had inherent and perverted, incestuous panty-boy leanings, she, with the full might of her love, devoted herself to helping him fully transition into whom he discovered he was meant to be.

She'd actually helped him and while he was rightfully ashamed to be a panty-boy, a feeling she assured him was natural and would never abate, with Mother's guidance, he learned how to be Ellie. He learned how to be a good boy. It was an immense challenge, but Mother was there every step of the way.

In the beginning, there had been a great number of spankings as he had so much to learn. Yet learn he did. Mother helped so much that before long, he really was behaving himself to Mother's liking.

Yet Mother continued to spank Elliot regularly, even when he was not "strutting his sassy bottom about the house." Given usually twice a week, these spankings were delivered with a great deal of love and care by his devoted mother with the intention of helping Elliot maintain the right baring. It was essential, she explained, that he project the appropriate temperament of a panty-boy. One of Ellie's very first realization was that panty-boys were prone to tears.

In this way, Mother explained, panty-boys were like little girls. Apparently she'd done a great deal of research. It was part of the transition, it was all about accepting who he was meant to be. There were so very few, she'd assured him, but for those women who sought those like himself, they actually preferred their boys to be not just gentle and obedient, but highly emotional. She'd made clear that no woman respected a crybaby, but for women like these, there was a conflicted acceptance as a crybaby was viewed as emotionally sensitive and this sensitivity was valued by a strong woman. Shameful yes, but at least some good came from being deficient. An emotionally in-touch boy was more sensitive, paid better attention and proved to be a better support partner to a strong, demanding woman. She'd helped Ellie become a very emotional boy.

The Spencer women were often cool, even to the point of being aloof. Too, they were supremely arrogant. They found Ellie's gently emotional effluence soothed them such that they experienced a greater sense of self control and a deeper appreciation for their own superiority. Should either feel the least emotional dis-regulation, they simply spanked little Ellie to tears and in the process exorcised their disquiet and reacquired their sense of self possession. The orgasms helped too.

Carol very effectively taught her son to respond emotionally and sexually to dominant women. Beyond that, she conditioned him to respond sexually to shame such that he was irresistibly attracted to the women who emasculated or in some other way, shamed him. A simple scolding caused him to stiffen for her. Next he'd be crying and that was even more shameful. His humiliation just made his cock harder and his sense of submission all the greater.

They saw to it that Ellie was sexually stimulated by their dominant assertion. They saw to it that his obvious state of arousal was itself a reason to be ashamed of himself.

He was conditioned by a sadist to be a fine boy.

The breathing of her crotch and this, were his two favorite parts. He loved opening his mouth and gently munching down on her whole crotch with his wet lips. After teasing them both up for so long, she always rewarded him with a...

"Good boy, lil' Ellie. Oooooo, yes, that's Mommy's good boy. Just like that."

These were his favorite parts, until she came. It was hard to beat a big, strong, gushing Mommygasm for ultimate joy and spiritual validation.

*

At home or in public, Ellie was to be submissive to his mother and sister. Often it was to be apparent but discreet. If they were in public, it was noticeable but subtle enough to be missed or ignored by most. If they had company, it was much the same though Ellie was apparently just a bit more attentive than a young man his age was expected to be. He was well mannered and unusually deferential to his mother and sister.

Sometimes women from Mother's support group were received as company and Ellie was to behave as a panty-boy was expected. There was no pretense. These were frightening occasions as he was loath to in any way, embarrass his mother.

Mother had invested so much of herself into his transition with the hope that one day he'd have a chance of finding love and a relationship with a woman who might, against all odds, find herself attracted to a panty-boy. The women from these meetings both intrigued and terrified poor Ellie.

Most of the women who attended these meetings, it was explained, were not interested in panty-boys. They attended meetings as they were the "unfortunate" women who discovered, much as Carol did, that they had a loved one who happened to be, despite their wholesome upbringing, a panty-boy. Most came to support one another through a difficult challenge. A minority attended because they happened to be attracted to panty-boys.

Ellie would not have suspected this as he'd attended a number of these meetings at his mother's side. The first time he attended, he was paraded about in the most profoundly humiliating way. He was stripped down to his panties and introduced to every single woman in attendance. Many of them took liberties with his body all while his mother stood right at his side, smiling on. As upsetting as all this was, Mother looked almost proud and this settled Ellie somewhat. Her tight, pinching grip on his upper arm, likewise steadied him and kept him present.

It seemed to Ellie that these women were very into panty-boys, but his mother assured him they were just "getting into the spirit" of it. "They all carry the same burden as me, Ellie. I suppose we all just do our best to have some fun and try to normalize it. It's a support group, after all. And a few of them actually are into it. Some of them are shopping, Ellie," she said as though presenting an opportunity he'd need to ready himself for.

At that first meeting, Mother performed a demonstration spanking of Ellie in front of all the women. While he cried and cried, they seemed to be having the very best time. He realized they must be very good sports because they really did get in the spirit of it all and in this way, a great deal of support was shared by these women for his mother. After his spanking, he was again paraded past all the seated ladies who seemed to have a great time feeling him up. It seemed his hot bottom was quite an attraction though his "little penis" received a great number of shameful comments and just as many caresses and playful slaps and pinches.

One particular woman commandeered his body and had him sit on her lap. She was stunning and the way she looked at Ellie affected him on some deeper level. She, ever so gently, traced one of his trailing tears and brought it to her pretty lips, actually tasted it.

He was shaken by this. He sat perched on her lap for no more than 10 seconds but it remained a vivid experience. He could not get over how nice it felt with one of her arms reached around him and with one of her hands rubbed his upper thigh and hip.

Whispered into his ear, "Mommys good boy." His eyes grew suddenly large as she'd struck an even deeper nerve. His just spanked bottom seemed to burn especially hot while sitting on her lap.

Laughing, "Come on along now Ellie, you little tart." Later, Carol shared that this particular woman was one of the few who actually liked panty-boys.

While she took his breath away, he was relieved to be ushered off of her lap as Mother continued parading him before the rest of the women.

He knew intellectually that they were not personally attracted to panty-boys, but he could not help feel like a piece of sex candy being used to entice a great number of hungry women. They all seemed very into it.

"They are doing that to support me, Ellie. They know how hard all of this is on me. They know how difficult it is to have a son like you. They want me to feel better about myself." Put that way, it made a lot of sense. "So they try to turn it into something fun and funny. Besides, you should be gretful that you are pretty enough for them to pay attention to you. Learn how to shake that money-maker, little one."

Occasionally, they had small parties of 4 to 6 women at particular houses and he'd been brought in to serve. And he was spanked. And he was used sexually. These parties were a lot to deal with and he was always so exhausted afterward.

Since before any of them knew, young ladies had been targeted by men and delinquent juveniles who'd dropped their blockers. In an almost casual way, these predators raped and/or gang banged, or gang raped pretty girls they'd then label as "partygirls." Sometimes it was the girl who wanted some male attention. She was the girl who wore a cute, revealing outfit to a party and enticed boys in order to feel a little excitement, to enjoy feeling attractive or it might be in an effort to attract a certain boy she had her eye on. Sometimes she got a bit drunk. Sometimes she was slipped a date rape drug. Sometimes she was stone sober. Sometimes she was none of these things. Sometimes she was just a cute girl in the wrong place at the wrong time. None of them went to a party planning to get raped. When it turned into a gang bang and she was the "partygirl."

The GoT ladies felt turn about was fair-play. They'd often enjoy little get togethers and someone would bring their boy to assume the role of the partygirl. These were strong, aggressive, sporting women and they wanted their fun too. It was agreed that it was not true rape as once the boys became properly conditioned, they came to enjoy what was done to them. It was convenient for these ladies to ignore the fact that none of these eager boys would have wanted any of this had they not been victimized and conditioned by the mother, sister, girlfriend or wife.

It was usually the same at each event. He'd come out of a backroom adorned in panties which always elicited a great deal of fanfare. It always felt like a big reveal with all the anticipatory anxiety. And for a few minutes, at least, he had all of their undivided attention. There were what appeared to be hungry smiles all around. He was expected to greet each woman individually at which point he was admired and felt up. They just enjoyed touching him but since he was only in panties and sporting an erection, it seemed to him that being "felt up" was a more accurate descriptor. And some of the women did pet his bottom or crotch in their admiration.

He never knew which women were interested in panty-boys and which were just being supportive, for in the moment, they all seemed to be enjoying themselves a great deal.

Despite his anxiety, he came to enjoy these little get togethers and surprised himself when he discovered he was getting quite excited by the prospect of a pending party. Once more, he found a sense of value in their appreciation of his place beneath them. He felt a strange stirring of anxiety and pleasure in these events and with encouragement from Mother and Allison, began to embrace it all. He went from being obviously intimidated to being the flirtatious coquette. Upon meeting the women, he'd curtsy, smile and giggle at their comments. He'd theatrically and very playfully slap at their roaming hands. "Ms. Mathews, I'm just a boy!" he say with dipped chin, a seductive smile and a gentle voice.

Whether they were "into it" or just getting in the spirit, he came to enjoy stoking their passion. Ellie was becoming a full service pleasure-boy and he was there to serve these ladies their pleasure. Though intimidating, he came to want to feel their hunger. He learned to love being the partygirl despite how shameful it all was.

In the beginning, he felt like a lighthouse, his shame burned so brightly. Later, he came out of that room feeling like a hot, vibrant, yet ever submissive, little stripper with an important job to do. He was the entertainment, wanted to serve and he liked the attention. He wanted to be their hot, little boy. He played it up for all it was worth in an effort to gain their approval and provoke their desire. He wanted to be the hot little thing they passed around. Ellie did learn to shake his money-maker.

He served them the drink of their preference and then they took turns spanking him. Often these spankings were akin to spankies, but at a few, the women did not hold back. The only consideration was to not spank him to the point of bleeding. Afterward he was sequestered to a bedroom where he was visited, one at a time, by each of the ladies. He pleasured all of them.

In the beginning, he always felt like a whore after one of these events. Yet afterward, Mother got him back on his feet with plenty of encouragement.

"Well certainly they used you, Ellie. The fact that most of these women are not even into panty-boys, yet still enjoyed using you is very complimentary. You are getting quite good at this, little man," she smiled. "I do say, I enjoy how you come out of the room now, how cute, engaging and flirtatious you have become with all the women. You are openly signaling that you are available to them and it is going a long way to putting them at ease with it all. That's what this is all about, Ellie. Their comfort and pleasure is all a true pleasure-boy could ever want for himself; it's your greatest achievement. You will come to find great fulfillment in this.

Mother almost sounded proud, if such a thing was possible. He reminded himself that he really did want to get good at this and it was not like he did not have fun at these events.

"Why, you should have heard what Monica Potter said about you."

Monica Potter?

This got his attention as he had a bit of a crush on Ms. Potter.

Ms. Potter was very stoic and self composed. In this way, she reminded him a bit of his mother and sister and realized he just might have a bit of a "Mommy complex." Though a bit short, she was very pretty and with a blonde, bob and pure, white skin, she projected as the ultimate ice-queen. She was young but very mature and the assistant to the head librarian, Ms. Jennings.

Mother shared that her dear friend Monica very much disapproved of his "lifestyle" and only got involved with this community because she wanted to better understand what was going on with this strange sub-culture. It turned out, he'd learned, she had separately helped a couple of would be panty-boys who'd come to her in the library asking for literature on the matter.

He looked to his mother hopefully. Of course Carol knew her son had a crush on Monica. She did not mind in the least.

He thought back to his time with Ms. Monica. She was always so stern and intimidating to him. He had the hardest time making eye contact with her and knew that despite how much he'd come to love the attention from these women, he did not want her to see how much he crushed on her as he knew how disdainful she was of panty-boys.

When he did his little spanking rounds, bending over one lady's knee after the next, taking his play spankies, feeling like a little spanking whore, Ms. Potter always spanked the longest.

In the back room, he was always very excited, yet never more so than when Ms. Monica took her turn with him. With her, he was always so nervous and unsure of himself. Of all the women, she was the only one who wanted to spank him again while in private, before he went down on her and this only intimidated him further. She had none of the playfulness of the other women and openly referred to him as a spanking-whore. Like a slinky, little slut, he'd crawl over her lap and give her just the slightest wiggle and while being terrified, hoping to entice her. He took some comfort from the customary rules that governed spanking at these events, but she always brought him to tears, not that that was very hard to do.

All the women came when he pleasured them, but Ms. Monica always came the hardest and pretty quickly, too. After getting her off, and it was so intense for both of them, she'd have him massage and lick her feet as she recovered. Then she'd use him again. Especially since she disapproved of panty-boys, and he had a huge crush on her, he took great pride in getting her off.

"What did she say, Mother?"

"She confided in me that she was beginning to have a change of heart about panty-boys. She said it was because of you."

Ellie was soaring.

He was the party-girl. There was no end of shame in this yet he could not help but feel some small sense of pride in at least being a good party-girl in the eyes of these important women.

And she assured him that all the women were very complimentary of the job she was doing with him and hoped that one day, he'd meet the right kind of woman and make her happy. "And you are learning how to be of some use. This makes you more valuable, Ellie. You pleased these women; you can take some small pride in this."

He did, however ironic it all was.

"Even you can find some value, Ellie."

With one hand on his bottom, she said endearingly, "You pray to Mommy, everyday,"

He was moved by her solemnity.

"You make Mommy cum every day. Several times," she drove home her message with a piercing smile. "You are learning to do a very good job. Ellie, you are very much earning Mommy's approval."

Ellie was over the moon.

Breathlessly, "Thank you, Mommy."

"Don't get too proud," she beamed at him, trying to lighten the mood. "I'd not want to have to spank that out of you, young man." She winked at him and he felt so much love for his amazing mother.

She approves of me.

Mother had assured him that it was good that he was skilled in this way and that women valued him for it. He was good for something.

Ellie was no longer capable of being too proud of anything. However, he did feel proud of himself as a pleasure giver and sex toy for women. This was his one thing, the one thing in the world that made him important. This was his validation and he very much leaned into this role for his Mother and Sister.

Ellie's secret was that he just wanted to stay with Mother.

These other women scared him. Yes, they were hot and as strange as it was, he learned to find a great deal of pleasure in being able to spend time with and feel close to these other special women who generously gave their time and attention to his development.

It was hard, but he loved his place in Mother's home. Certainly it could be scary, but he knew what to expect. He loved serving Mother and later his sister. His highpoint in life was to be sucking one of them off and that was all he really wanted to do.

That did not mean he did not want Mommy to keep taking him to her cocktail parties.

Then he smiled to himself thinking about how fun it was to wiggle over Mommy or sister's lap while playfully protesting, wiggling and whimpering as he took one of their spankies. They were serious women but they indulged him. Though himself a "silly-headed boy," they played with him. Looking at it objectively, they played with him a lot as he got spankies every day.

Ellie simply loved the attention of being the hot, little spank-bottom one of these women wanted to correct. Nothing satisfied him like one of their orgasms.

*

Things changed with a phone call. For an entire month, Mother spent much more time out of the house than was normal. There'd been an event of some sort but none of it had been explained to him. During this time, Mother often did not come home.

Thank god, Ellie had his little sister to watch over him. Allison could be so demanding and as emotionally disregulated as Ellie was over Mother's absence, he needed desperately to be needed... and used. During that period, Allison really came through and saw to it that Ellie was kept in his place and used sexually several times a day.

*

The knocks on the door beckoned and he attended. There she stood, Monica Potter!

I mean, Ms. Potter... or, or Ms. Monica!

"Excuse me."

He stood aside and she brushed past him.

Now in the living room. "Get your sister."

Without hesitation, he did as she bid him.

The ladies met with a brief hug, dispensed with pleasantries and seemed genuinely pleased to see one another. They adjourned to Allison's room where they remained in congress for some time.

They emerged and explained to Ellie that Allison was going away for a few days and that Ms. Monica Potter would be watching over him.

"I'll be back in a few days, Ellie. Don't be frightened as I am leaving you in excellent hands. Miss Monica Potter will be your babysitter while I am gone. Be a good boy."

*

Ms. Potter was going to be a new challenge.

Mother had made it clear to Ellie that each woman came with her own expectations and it was a panty-boy's obligation to find his way to the sort of understanding which afforded her the sort of comfort and service she was entitled to.

As he lay tummy down on Mother's bench, it was abundantly clear to him that he'd failed Ms. Monica in this basic way. It occurred to him, as she fastened the leather belts over his torso and legs, securing him to the bench, he'd been far too presumptuous, much too informal and way too relaxed with Ms. Potter. It was clearly his fault. Not only was she his babysitter, but he knew her to be a serious woman.

Though enticingly beautiful, in baring she seemed to be some sort of elite military officer. As odd as it was, it was part of why he'd always had a crush on her. He found her clean, perfect features, coupled with her severity, enchanted him. In every way, Monica Potter owned her superiority and he believed in it.

She'd "disapproved" of him. He knew of her disdain. She projected as so demonstrably superior to him and seemed somewhat cold in a way that made his mother and sister seem emotionally effusive by comparison. He cursed himself as she positioned the pillow beneath his hard cock, elevating his bottom. He knew all this yet failed her at the first opportunity. Allison had not been out the door for more than 10 minutes and he was about to take a strapping.

He'd never been strapped before as Mother and Allison were firm believers in over the knee spankings whenever any sort of guidance or correction was required.

She drew forth the strap from her bag, the very bag he failed to offer to put in her room for her stay.

He'd been intrigued by her, excited even and this distracted him. He'd asked her if there was anything he could get her while failing to ask her what he could do for her. Better still would have been to ask her if she'd like him to remove her bag to her room.

"So very disappointing, Ellie. I know your mother and I know she raised you properly. Your inattention strikes me as disrespectful."

He was overcome with fear and shame. Ellie hated disappointing the women who cared for him.

From his perspective, watching her in the mirror, she faced his prone body, positioned to bring the strap down across his raised bottom. "This will be a lesson for you, Ellie. I'd like you to watch it all in the mirror."

The expectation was already customary and a reflection of their family values.

Above all was the projection of superiority. If he did not know a bit about Ms. Potter, he might wonder if perhaps superiority was a disposition he projected onto her.

She had perfect features and seemed always to have her head ever so slightly drawn back, chin up. Miss. Monica Potter was a withholder. That is to say, she was an emotional withholder who discovered this natural disposition gave her a great advantage in the pursuit of boys. She was intelligent and very attractive and decided early on to own her sense of superiority. She discovered that with her emotional reservation, boys posing as men, revealed themselves to her. It seemed her beauty and reservation provoked emotional insecurity in boys. The boys who were attracted to her revealed themselves invariably by attempting to please her or even placate her for what they imagined was her displeasure.

Poised to whip him with a belt, it was easy for Ellie to misread her pretty face as one of displeasure. The only expression he could see was her clenched jaw muscles. To the contrary, Miss Monica Potter was most pleased. This was how she relaxed. She would feed him fear and take his autonomy along with her own pleasure.

She looked mildly displeased until she landed the first strike down on his round mounds. It landed with what was for her, a satisfying crack.

With is high pitched yet subdued mewling, he saw the blessed pleasure on her face. Her eyes went to half mast and corners of her naturally down turned lips, turned slightly upward. He could take no more of this strapping, but she was pleased and he knew this to be of utmost importance.

Yet her words said otherwise.

"It seems deliberate. Were you intentionally disrespecting me?"

Monica knew the boy had feelings for her despite their limited interactions. This was her effect on boys. She knew a crush when she saw one and so she'd gone to Carol to express her interest.

"Is that it?"

The thick leather strap whipped down once more.

Crack

Again he whimpered with the intense pain and he was overcome by his feeling of deep shame. Her disappointment in him became his disappointment with himself. The tears were welling and he hated answering questions when he was crying only because it was so hard to catch his breath. Yet her assumptions were so misconstrued.

"N... no, Ms. Pot... Potter. I mean that I had no..." The boy had to take a deep breath. "What I mean is... is that, I did not mean to... to disrespect you. I'm sorry."

Ms. Potter was in the throws of profound pleasure as the blood seemed to rush through every cell of her body. She could all but taste his fear and pain.

Oh God, yes!

The belt came down once more and Miss Potter was soaking the crotch of her panties.

Ms. Potter prided herself on her own self mastery. He saw the subtle satisfaction in her expression but her tone was, under the circumstances, maddeningly dispassionate.

"I suppose then that you just dislike me."

Crack

Crying openly now, "No, Ms. Potter. I... I... I like you!" It was all he could do to resist declaring his love. He knew intellectually that he was not in love with her as he did not know her. Yet his infatuation with her looks, her demeanor and his current state of heightened emotion, almost caused him to declare it.

Ms. Potter was the tiny tyrant, the perfect ice-queen, but he could see a fire in her, nonetheless and it captivated him. She was a compelling vision and so distracted was he by her pleasure, he did not even pay attention to his plight until he heard and then focused on the whistle of the strap arching down once more to kiss his suddenly tensing bottom.

Crack

Oh god, please stop!

*

She gave him 10 with the belt before she released him and bent him over her knee.

For Monica, a belt whipping was comparable to the sort of emotionally detached, purely carnal, raw fucking she knew some single women enjoyed for themselves. It was a long, hard grinding, bareback orgasms. Some women journeyed across town to a bar with designs to score a stud with a big cock and plenty of staying power to take her breath away. It was an impersonal, no strings pleasure that brought them absolute physical satisfaction without the headache of emotional entanglement For women like this, the only guy she'd give her number to would be her unicorn; a hyper with a big cock. Monica Potter found pure, self-centered pleasure in this way by strapping a boy to tears.

Now that she had him adequately sensitized, she'd finish with him over her knee while using her bare hand. This was as close as she got to tender lovemaking.

She simply loved causing a boy cry with no more than a barehand spanking. There was something deeply erotic about making another cry with a spanking suitable for a five year old. She knew it to be a degradingly new low for one who'd not been previously humbled in this way.

Miss Monica Potter had only been exploring this much preferred lifestyle for a few years and it was for her like finding water in the middle of the desert. In a short time, she'd developed her own style and methods for subduing and breaking men and reacquainting them with boyhood.

Taking aim at one small spot, she spanked moderately but quite rapidly.

spank... spank... spank...

After 2 or 3 spanks he knew what they were now enjoying a spanky and he was relieved. With time only to blink, he realized the burning.

... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank

She kept hitting the same spot. His eyes went big with the realization this was not a spanky! His sense of panic returned in full. It went on!

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

"Young man, earlier you said you liked me. Let us talk about this."

Aiming at the exact same spot...

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank

With the feel of his desperation and open crying, Monica's eyes blazed with rapacious desire and the barest hint of a smile touched her lips. At once she felt light as a feather and completely grounded by the focused pleasure she felt coursing through her body.

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

"What do you mean when you say that you like me?"

Again, all on the exact same spot...

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

"I mean that... that..."

She interrupted.

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

His eyes cast about, crazily searching for the exit to this madness.

"Owww," he whimpered. "I mean that..." He had to quickly control his blubbering so he could catch his breath and find his clarity. "I knew I respected you the instant I met you. I mean... I don't really know what I mean but when I am with you, I feel so very insecure and kinda scared at how openly vulnerable I feel to you."

The damsel all but threw back her chin to afford the seductive and terrifying vampire a clear line to the jugular.

"Do you, now?"

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

"Yes!," he cried.

At last she chose a different spot.

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

He had an instant of relief before she'd created a new hot spot of agony.

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

His whimpers drove her arousal higher and higher.

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

"Why is that, do you think?"

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

"Oh God!" he said in despair. "I... I... I..."

spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank... spank...

His eyes bulged but he had no choice to focus, responding to Ms. Potter.

"Because you are perfect and special."

What he said was true and essential. He saw the truth of the matter. She had to spank it out of him, but he acknowledged the truth and this pleased her. Monica Potter viewed herself, seriously, at the very least, a version of human perfection. Of course this made her special. The boys she kept in her orbit would see her likewise.

The spanking she was so enjoying, was over. She pushed him to the floor.

Sometimes spankings don't last as long as you think they will!

She cracked a smirk, there and gone.

She dropped her shorts, hopped onto the bed and beckoned him.

She was short and not quite sporting a cartoonishly curved, little, Italian race car physique. Everything was still somehow proportional and tight as anyone could expect to be. He fell deep and hard into the roll of pussy slave She'd been with this boy before and appreciated how well trained he was.

She could hardly wait to gush down his throat, but she would wait. Patience always yielded the best results and Monica Potter was always in control. Always.

*

She'd just finished spanking him and he was a teary faced, sobbing mess. Of course he'd messed up again but since his cute, little-boy bottom was still recovering from earlier spankings, she showed him her kind side by spanking his inner thighs.

It had been terrible! He could not wait for her to leave, so traumatized was he by her. It seemed there was no end of reasons for punishing poor Ellie and he felt on the edge of some sort of emotional breakdown. He'd never known himself to be so disappointing to another and he'd never been spanked as much as he had since Miss Monica had come to stay with him. He'd never been so on edge.

Monica was simply breaking him in. This was something she did with all the boys she spent time with. She took great pleasure in putting them through the paces right from the very beginning. She liked to teach boys that they could take so much more than they imagined. What made this so fantastically far beyond pleasurable to her came from making them desire her all the more for it.

This was the pleasure and she took her time with it all. With his knees bent, she directed him to keep his legs splayed for her as she used a wooden spoon on the tender virgin skin of his inner thighs. She did not strike overly hard as there was simply no need to. She struck with moderate force much the way she'd barehand spanked him previously. It was almost light but very rapid strikes on a concentrated spot. Again she served salvos of 10 and by 5 or 6, she'd see it on his face as it took as long for the accumulative effect to catch up to him.

If only she'd leave that spot! And she would. Eventually.

She took her sweet time painting his inner thighs while he cried and cried. She had every reason to believe his cock would remain rock hard for her and she was not disappointed.

This was when he saw Miss Monica Potter at her most effusively passionate. Her expressions transitioned and he got to see her more emotional side. At first she shared cold disinterest. Yet as she drew him into the spinning vortex of pain and fear, he saw wide eyed focus, intense passion and obvious pleasure. Ellie might have ventured that Miss Monica Potter was in her happy place.

smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack smack

Occasionally, he'd draw his knees together, not able to take even one more strike and with a tisk-tisk, a smirk and a gentle urging by her delicate hand, she'd have him open his legs once more for her administration. While punishing him, she did seem now a bit less severe and he again thought she might be happy. The thought stunned him and he felt himself incapable of any forceful resistance so mesmerized was he by her authentic expression of pleasure. Happiness might have been a projection but he was more than certain of her pleasure. Her pleasure became the only thing that mattered to him. Though completely traumatized, some part of him wanted to open his legs for her. As a pleasure-boy, he had a duty.

She took a moment to rub the hot skin of his punished legs. "There, there now" she encouraged. "Try to hold still and be a good boy, for me."

He could not believe just how badly he wanted to be a good boy for Ms. Potter.

With a bit less edge in her voice, as soft as Miss Monica Potter was ever going to sound, "We are not quite finished, little one. You will learn. I want you to know I am enjoying myself."

She continued spanking and he continued crying. Her arousal was all encompassing. As she spanked him, as she took in his tears, she was in a cocoon of pleasure.

*

She left him alone as she had an errand to run.

He reflected. It was terrible. By himself, he took a moment to sit with it all. He felt traumatized to the point of feeling a bit shell shocked. It had hurt terribly, but that was not the full explanation. What bothered him so much was how into her he was. His fear of her was as profound as his attraction.

After the spanking, she'd used him. This was normal and he loved it. Yet it was not normal. He found his hunger for her orgasms were profound and while he was used to always wanting more, this feeling of insatiable want was somehow more profound than was normal. He'd made her cum 3 times and still he remained an emotional mess and sought desperately to make her cum again. Instead of warmth she gave him emotional indifference and perhaps disdain.

He wanted Allison to come home and for Miss Monica Potter to leave! Troubling was the belief that after she left, he'd want her back.

*

He lie on his back as she sat next to his head, looming over him. The punishment was over and she was calming him down. It was not the loving, gentle care he always got from Mommy. There was no baby-voiced endearments and encouragements. She did look pleased and she brushed his hair and face with her hand as she stared down at him. She pet his face as he stared up at her. He was suitably frightened of her, she'd have it no other way, but he was calming down. This was important. She rubbed his face as she shushed him bringing him down from all the acute feelings. His crying was becoming more gentle and soon he'd run out of tears.

She beckoned him to open his mouth and delighted at his flinching compliance. Yes, she was deep in this boys head! If for some reason he was not frightened of her, she'd change that. Monica viewed a boy's fear of her as a show of respect and an endearment. She knew she deserved his respect and his affection.

He opened his mouth and with a frightening smile, she urged him to open wide. While he complied, the fear was in his eyes. She bent down a few inches and with lips pursed, pushed out some spit that he saw growing in size and weight, on her pretty mouth. It's weight pulled it down and he watched her spit grow in what seemed slow motion, it drew down several inches, still attached to her mouth by a stretching strand of saliva before it let go and dropped into his mouth.

Plop.

What the fuck!

He was beyond bewilderment.

Her spit remained in his mouth as he was completely unsure of what to do. His first and most natural impulse was to spit it out, yet her intention could not have been more clear even with a spoken declaration. Spitting it out would be a disagreement that would invite more spanking. He struggled to get his head right, yet comprehension eluded him.

This is what she wants.

... he affirmed to himself.

There was no way forward with his thinking. He stood at then terminus of the dead-end hallway.

She repeated it and an even larger wad of spit landed inside of his mouth. With her hand, she gently closed his mouth. "Do you want to belong to me?" She knew his answer before he did. He'd not responded but knew she knew what he needed. She knew because she was uniquely skilled at leading boys to her pleasure. With her spit in his mouth, he understood all this.

He closed his mouth around her saliva and washed his mouth with it. He did not consciously choose to do this but as he relaxed into her question, it just happened. The way forward was suddenly clear to him. He wanted more. In a daze, he nodded his head in the affirmative.

She gave him her smirk of approval and without prompting, he opened his mouth wide for her.

Over the course of two days, he'd brought her to quite a number of orgasms, (she was a very passionate woman in her odd way,) and while he knew a near feverish need to continue pleasuring her this way, he was not sure he was connecting with her emotionally. Certainly his sense of emotional desire was profound, but he was not sure it was being reciprocated by Miss Potter. Yet now, with this degrading communion, he at last felt the connection. There was an element of lovemaking in this.

More.

Ms. Monica did not quite smile, but he could see the smile in her eyes. She was most pleased. She allowed a long drool of spit to drop into his mouth before she urged him to close his mouth once more. What could only be one of the most erotic gestures the boy could ever know, she used her fingertips to repeatedly brush down his throat. Brush down, lift, place back high on the throat and repeat.

He knew what to do but he was so enthralled, so beside himself with feelings of surrender, he held on. He realized he was savoring his own degradation, drawing it out. With this special form of debasement, they were sharing something special and he prayed for her acceptance. He felt, at last, like they might be sharing true intimacy. He was somehow sinking lower and he wanted more.

Upon the third or fourth gentle brushing of his throat, he slowly swallowed all of her blessed saliva just as his cock began to spasm, shooting thick jets of cum from his ridged, pulsing erection. He'd never had a spontaneous, completely non-tactile premature ejaculation before and was utterly shocked by what his body was doing.

Monica had enjoyed many times more of her own orgasms than she'd directly caused, a ratio she was proud of and though fitting, but she certainly knew the signs of a pending boy explosion, however rapidly one might develop. She got lucky in that with his flexing six-pack and tilted hips, the trajectory of his first jet splattered on his own chin. Quick as a cat, she shot her hand down to block the rest of his seminal eruption. Cum splattered against her palm and dripped down onto his abdomen.

Feigning disgust and disappointment, "Goodness gracious! Why I've never...! How dare you! Shame on you!"

With her words, he sank lower while his orgasm seemed to build!

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare keep up this naughty business!"

In this rebuke, it was as much emotion as he'd heard from her yet if anything, it seemed to make him cum harder.

Despite the lack of friction, it was an intense orgasm and he just kept shooting and shooting and... He was mortified.

How many times had he told himself he was not just a boy, only to be proven wrong!

Despite every silent protest, no matter how many times he mentally affirmed that he was not a little boy and that how they treated him as such was not at all fair, he'd find himself before them behaving as would an out of control, naughty-boy. In those moments of unspoken protest, he really believed how they treated him was wrong despite his conflicted feelings about it all. It was explained time and again how his lack of manliness reaffirmed what a natural pantyboy he was. It seemed an inescapable conclusion. At this point in his evolution as a pantyboy, he knew he could never know deeper, more profound desire than that which was force fed with shame.

"Naughty boys get long spankings."

He seemed to shoot harder with that comment which struck him as insane as at that point, he clearly could not take even a spanky.

His whole being filled with dread as he cried and thought he could sink no lower as he felt another massive spasm rock his body as cum shot yet again with force.

As though she'd done this hundreds of times, for she acted immediately with intention, she scooped up a finger-full, before it could run far and brought it to his face. Looking down with laser beam focus, she directed it to his pursed lips, lips still contorting in response to his very grand orgasm. She used it to gloss his lips.

In this, she showed him her passion. Monica's piercing eyes were at half mast and her face was flush with blood.

Lightly, she traced his lips, coating it with his creamy cum.

As she captured another runnel of cum, determined not to waste a drop, "Little boy looks ready for a long night of clubbing. All we need is a little eyeliner."

She intended to slip it into his mouth but he resisted her gently prenetrating finger. Looking down at him, she tilted her head back, showing her disapproval with an unspoken question, "Really? Do you dare defy me?"

She'd been sitting him for 2 days and he'd never been so thoroughly spanked in such a short time and he thought he'd never get over it. Not once did he defy Miss Monica Potter. No, on second thought, he would comply with her expectation no matter how demeaning.

He relaxed his jaw and in slipped her cum covered finger.

"That's a boy." And with this, he saw her most convincing smile. She was happy and his heart soared.

As his heart filled with adoration, he gave into what he imagined was his natural pantyboy nature when he gently sucked the cum off her finger and even made a show of swallowing it.

Am I good? Am I your good boy?

She put away her dazzling smile, something he warmed his heart for only seconds and replaced it with her closed mouth smile of self satisfaction. He'd seen this look on Allison and Mommy's faces countless times. Miss Monica was pleased with herself. He knew that she was tending to a pantyboy in a way that caused her to be pleased with herself. Finger full after finger full filled his mouth and all the while he adored the upturned corners of her perfect lips.

After she captured all the escaping rivulets, she excused herself before quickly returning with a little, tiny bowl and a small silicone scoop spatula. Efficiently, she scrapped up the rest of his seminal mess into the bowl.

She had him sit up and he saw there was still quite a lot of cum in the bowl. His eruption had been volcanic.

"Now, let's get little boy his brecky."

My "brecky?"

Ellie was puzzled.

He then saw she'd also brought with her from the other room, a small feeding spoon which she used to gather a small pool of cum onto. She brought it to his mouth, tilted back her head and opened her own mouth as though communicating with a baby.

This was so far beyond outrageous and like so many times in the past, he silently declared his right to refuse, "No, I won't!" just prior to or exactly when he did the opposite and complied with Her degrading expectation. His impotence was again made clear.

He held the small pool on his tongue. With her knowing smirk, Miss Monica Potter used the fingertips of her free hand to, once again, brush down his throat. She needed baby to swallow.

As he complied with her indecent expectation, he felt his cock pulse with need. He'd just cum and not even lost his erection so powerful was the spell this ice-queen had put upon him. That was when he knew he was falling in love with his babysitter.

But I'm not a baby! I'm not! I'm a big boy!

The pleased smile only left her face long enough to mimic her expectation that he open his mouth for another loving spoonful.

*

She set down her feeding spoon, used her finger to wipe up a small dribble of cum on his chin and fed it into his mouth, ensuring that he swallowed every drop. With his feeding completed, she laid back and made her next expectation clear.

He loved how much time they were spending together. As elated as he was then feeling, it was easy to forget all the spanking he'd endured at her hand. The river of tears he'd cried was forgotten. He was so into Miss Monica.

As he began breathing her musk through her white panties, his joy peeked.

Love Miss Monica! Love her, love her, love her!

As he breathed in all her pheromones, as he considered just how captivating she was, he embraced all the sensations of falling in love.

And he knew he wanted to be her boy

***

For a few days at least, things seemed to be getting back to normal.

Reuniting with Mother seemed almost magical considering just how much he missed her.

"I've missed my boy, Mommy's forever-boy. We're going to spend the whole weekend together, a mother son weekend. What do you think about that?

Without thought, he brought his hands together in prayer position and beamed his joy. He did not even know that he began to waggle his cute, little boy bottom in an expression of puppy-dog enthusiasm. "Oh, Mommy!"

He moved up to her and with hands at his sides, he hoped.

He almost melted into a puddle when she wrapper her arms around him and pulled him into her. A tear of joy trailed his cheek. Ellie was delirious with love for his perfect Mommy.

Nothing on Earth fulfilled him like intimate time with his mother or sister. It was different, however, with is mother as she was Mommy. He never wanted to get in the way of one of Mother's spankings as that was a serious and sobering ordeal, but as long as she was in a good mood, she, in private, intimate moments, shared a great deal of affection with her boy. He was as docile as a kitten

Carol used her boy with a sort of rabid, animalistic focus. They lost count of how many orgasms she fed her gentle loving boy.

I'm in heaven.

*

"No, little-one and you know better than to ask."

"I know, Mommy. I'm sorry, it's just really, really... uncomfortable. Like really."

"Does someone simply need a "really, really" hot bottom to match? Goodness, gracious, little man, what has gotten into you?"

Her mood was still affectionate and he knew she was not there. He'd not crossed the line. Yet he'd been wrong about this before and knew to be cautious.

His cock and balls throbbed terribly with need but Mommy was as ever, resolute in her dedication to him. She'd made it very clear to him that as good as it felt, it was not healthy for panty-boys to cum too often. He got to cum with either she or Allison decided and he was strongly discouraged from even hinting at his need.

Further, Mother had helped him with this, "A panty-boy's only true and good need is to please. A panty-boy should only ever hope, and hope desperately to be used. Don't you know that by now, Ellie?"

Ellie most certainly did know this to be true. "Yes, Mother." Yet that did not mean his entire crotch did not throb with pent up need.

She most certainly was not going to allow him an orgasm now, of all times!

*

"You're just filling an overnight bag, Ellie. Three or four pairs of your cutest undies and a couple of nighties. Nighties were short nightgowns, camisoles or babydolls. "All your bathroom needs. Not much else."

"But Mother, where are we going?"

"When you have completed your packing, come into Mother's room and we will have a talk."

*

"You what? How could you, Mother!" Allison was overtly distraught.

"Now, darling, I know you are upset but it really will be for the best." She hoped she was right.

"But you sold him!" It was a naked accusation of immorality.

It was preposterous, even to Carol. The reactionary smile blossomed for only seconds before she put it away. She's sold her son.

Oh fuck!

Carol smiled internally at the audacity of what she'd done.

Sold my son.

She felt so much gratitude just then. She loved her life.

She was now a slave trader. Again, a smile slipped out.

The immorality, the abomination that Mother was seen to have committed was to have taken from Allison a trusted servant.

From Allison's point of view, it was just wrong. "Mother, I depend on Ellie! We both do!"

Allison loved breaking boys so that was not the issue. The point was that she knew already that she was in all ways comfortable living with Ellie. Only a trusted live in would ever suffice in taking care of Allison's domestic needs.

"Now Allison, I'll remind you that when this whole thing began, I told your brother that I was going to train him to get him ready for the sort of woman who might choose to take a boy like him for herself. All I did was what I told him I'd do."

*

Ellie cried his eyes out. Not only was he leaving the only home he ever wanted to live in, but too, he felt his heart break. He was in love with Miss Monica Potter and hoped his mother would continue hiring her to babysit him so that he'd be able to spend as much time as possible with her. He was in deep. Separately, on some other level, he felt relief. Miss Monica Potter was a very great challenge for him. He was terrified of her. He'd never known a greater thrill.

Ellie cried the whole car ride.

He'd been bought by Samantha Wagner. She was now his owner.