Anonymous - First training

“Up!” she commanded him and, trembling more than ever, he staggered to his feet, whereat she took his shoulders and spun him around so that he stood in profile to me.

I could not help but let my eyes seek where I knew they were to do so and saw immediately the considerable hump in his trousers. Thereupon, our stepmother passed her hand lightly over it, standing as she was face on to his left shoulder. He gurgled, started and stared straight at her door.

“Show me, Robert. Show Mama,” she said quietly. Robert’s hands moved. With shaking fingers he prised open his buttons one by one, I holding my breath as each was loosed. Finding him too slow, she gave an impatient tug at his shirt just above the waistband of his trousers which seemed to act like some sort of trigger or release, for then out sprang his cock in full erection, the crest positively glowing with pride and I drinking in every inch of the fleshy stem.

“Good,” my stepmother said quietly. Poor sweet Robert, I could see his legs shaking still and his face high flushed. A gasp escaped him and his head quivered as in ague, for her fingers then ringed it lightly, ran up and down the throbbing stem and released it so that it quivered its pleading to the empty air. His face was sheened with perspiration still and his brow positively glistening.

“You like the scent of me, do you not, Robert?” she asked, and he nodded.

“And the taste of me?” This time she laughed, but not cruelly. So saying, she grasped his stiff weapon tightly and then again let it go.

“Y… y… yes, Mama.”

“One day, Robert, if you are very good and obedient, I may remove my drawers for your exercises. Would you like that? No, do not answer, for I know your rising lust. How wicked you are and how you must be punished for it!”

A rippling laugh escaped her and however bizarre the situation was I could not help but feel a thrill of deep affection at the sound. Her eyes met mine again deliberately through the crack between the door and the frame and a little smile as of pride and pleasure wisped over her ruby lips.

“Now show me your balls, Robert.”

At that he pushed a little frantically at his trousers, let them slide down and was so uncovered to just above his knees where they crumpled and hung. His shirt being tucked up, I could now see all. His testicles hung like two rich plums close beneath the root of his erection which seemed to me not lewd but beautiful to see with its mingled white and pinky colour and the rubicond head from which his foreskin was drawn tightly back.

“Has Sarah seen it?” she asked and made him quiver terribly as she passed alluring fingers underneath his balls.

“N… n… no,” he stuttered.

“You are well hung, Robert, for your age. Be mindful that your prick rises well when you think of me, but do not play with yourself nor make yourself come for your shirts and sheets and kerchiefs are ever being examined and my wrath will truly fail upon you should you disobey. Guard your liquid treasures, Robert, for such moments as I ordain and I will judge you a good boy. Have you a question to ask? You are permitted one, as I told you in the summerhouse of late.”

The summerhouse! Had she meant to say it or was it a slip of the tongue? I recalled now her strolling there once or twice with him but had thought nothing of it, thinking her presence with him but a maternal one. Now perhaps I knew that its walls held secrets that I longed to know.

“M… m… may I k… k… kiss you, Mama?” stammered he, though not daring to turn his head but facing ever forward.

“What a request! With your naughty prick up and your balls out? What would the world think of me? Would you have me raise my skirts while you do it and press my thighs to yours? Well?”

“N… n… no.”

I felt truly sorry for him. His expression was utterly forlorn, yet at the same time I was seized by a feeling that his behaviour was at least unmanly. There was no tie of blood between them and despite the disparity in their ages he might well in the circumstances have risked a kiss, even though it meant a caning. So my befuddled thoughts ran. I both loved him and yet felt a distant contempt for him which, had I but known it, was exactly the concoction of emotions that she wished to engender in me.

“You bad boy,” our stepmother said softly and then, placing one hand beneath his bare buttocks so that her forefinger distinctly moved between them, took light hold on his straining penis and frotted it gently, causing his mouth to gape and a low moaning sound to issue from him.

“In a little while, when you are gone, Robert, I shall remove my drawers, which you will find well warm and musky with my scent, and will toss them quickly on to the landing. You will wait there and catch them and may take them to bed with you if you wish. Would you like that?”

Her voice, so tender again, stirred my heart anew. Her hand continued to rub, lightly and maddeningly, I have no doubt.

“Yes. Yes, Mama,” he croaked.

“Very well-cover yourself and go. Be quick on it. I may exercise you again tomorrow if you are good. Beware that you do not spill your lust into my drawers, for I shall know of it. You may suck upon them, but that is all.”

I heard all in a daze, conscious of a melting moisture in my own most intimate garment and unable to tear my eyes from my brother’s rampant pego until it was fully covered and his jacket on. Turning away from him, our stepmother waved her hand airily in dismissal, at which he literally slunk out and closed the door. I then burst out, unable to contain myself and fell into her embrace.

“Oh, how naughty!” I exclaimed involuntarily.

“Wait,” she laughed, “let me give him his little treat.” Most boldly then she doffed her drawers, easing them off over her bootees. The crotch was damp as I well expected to see it. With almost a giggle she waved the cotton before my face, bringing a deeply feminine effluvia to my nostrils, opened the door a little, tossed them out, and closed it. A scurrying sound came to our ears and she laughed and said, “You see!” Then her expression changed and became one of seriousness.

“All men and boys are so if properly taken in hand,” she said, and asked-as though I were much older than my years-“did you not know?”

I bit my lip, feeling embarrassed at her question yet wanted withal to appear bold.

“It is too soon for you to understand,” she said gently, “but I mean to progress you quickly. The choice is simple, Clara. You may live what Society is pleased to call the normal life. You will marry, suffer the boorishness of your husband, become infinitely bored and wonder what to do with all your days. As you grow older he may desert you for other women. Do you wish that?”

“Oh, no!” I must have looked more deeply concerned than I felt for she kissed me all about my mouth.

“Robert has a good cock, has he not?” she asked. Before I could think of how to frame a reply she went on, “I cannot let it remain unmannered, you see, and by that I mean that he requires training, as all males do. Some females, too.” Her eyes twinkled. “It is a precious thing to be able to guide the destinies of those who would otherwise live haphazard lives and became so dull that they bore all about them. Robert is really happier than he has ever been for he waits upon my ministrations and knows that I will finally comfort him. I have given him a direction and a purpose, you see, and have concentrated his mind wonderfully, if I may use dear Dr. Johnson’s phrase. Stern and remote-though also sometimes teasing-I may seem to him, but were I to leave him to his own devices he would soon begin to poke every girl in sight. He would come too quickly and afford the girls no pleasure. In a word, he would be uselessly ruttish. That would not be good, would it?”