The Full Treatment: A Novel of Erotic Worship

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

I rushed to comply with my furious stepmother, feeling truly awful at having upset her so terribly when I was only trying to help ease her grief. Soon I was naked as she had commanded and standing in the one empty corner in my old bedroom, trembling slightly as I awaited my fate. My ability to stand fully in the corner was somewhat limited by the state of my c**k, which was rock hard and forced me nine inches back from the wall. I was mortified at this turn of events, as the object of my almost lifelong crush was about to see just how I (or at least that telltale part of me) really felt about her. Soon she came into my room, having changed from her daytime clothes into a burgundy silk short robe that set off her strawberries and cream complexion perfectly. I kept my gaze in the corner as ordered while she pulled out my desk chair on placed it in the center of my rug, and spoke sternly,

“I suspect that if your Father had allowed me to punish you as I wished when you were younger, we wouldn’t have to be doing this now, young man. Your bottom looks just like his did, bearing a remarkable resemblance to Michelangelo’s David in that regard. It will be the perfect place to pay the consequences for your intrusion into his privacy. Now turn around and come over here to stand in front of me!”

I complied, blushing so fiercely that I was sure I would blow some sort of fuse in that circuitry at her witnessing my penile reaction to my predicament. She looked at my c**k disdainfully, exclaiming,

“As usual, that naughty organ thinks it’s all about him, just like your Father’s did whenever he had to take his medicine. That’s no matter, we’ll just clamp it between my thighs to hold you in position since I’m going to spank you as hard as possible and you will no doubt be doing some wiggling once I hit my rhythm.”

She then proceeded to take my hips and guide me over her lap, opening her smooth plump womanly thighs to take my erection in a delightful encasement as she settled me on her lap. She ordered,

“Very well, my naughty young man, it is time for you to learn about corporal punishment, better late than never. You are to grasp the legs of your desk chair and not to release them under pain of doubling your backside’s travails. And those legs are to be spread as wide as you can hold them, so that I can have access to every nerve ending of those wicked buttocks. You will want to bring them together to protect the tender areas I will be punishing, and if you do so, I will take that as a sign of disobedience and get some equipment to restrain them apart and double your punishment yet again. I expect you to react to your spanking, both physically and verbally, but if you beg or plead I will double your dose of painful medicine. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Jeanne. I’m terribly sorry for my misbehavior, and accept your punishment gladly. Spank me as much as you think I need, and if I am cooperative I hope that means you can forgive me.”

She stroked a cool right hand over my flinching ass cheeks, and retorted,

“We’ll see about that, my naughty young man. Now the time for talking is past, and you are to focus on the conversation between my hard right hand and your wicked buttocks!”

With no further ado, Jeanne began belaboring my nether moons with her open palm. I was surprised at how much her small hand hurt, though the pain was easily bearable at first as she spanked rapidly, moving back and forth metronomically and gradually working her way outward from the center of each bottom cheek. She was clearly expert at this, and soon had my hips involuntarily bucking with each spank. This movement of course shifted my fiercely erect c**k in its delicious prison of the smooth white skin of her inner thighs, which were quite muscular from her lifelong hobby of dressage riding. As she began building quite a fire in my clenching buttocks, I began to realize to my horror that the iron self-control that I had developed over my arousal seemed to be rusting away quite rapidly. She sensed this, and spanked even harder, concentrating her blows on the bottom portion of my cheeks where things seemed to be most sensitive. I had managed not to cry out (or weep) during my travails, but suddenly I found myself shouting in unwished for pleasure as I deposited a shockingly large load of semen on the rug beneath my chair as my first spanking came to a climactic close.

Jeanne stroked my throbbing buttocks gently, murmuring,

“You took that very well, Jake, not breaking form at all. But I did not give you permission to spend yourself pleasurably during your punishment, so you must receive another spanking. I brought along my nice ebony wood hairbrush for just such an eventuality. You will remember it from the many times you would brush my hair when we were chatting when you were small. Did you know that ebony is the hardest of hardwoods, actually requiring diamond saws to cut it? Perhaps it will make a more telling impression on your impudent buttocks than my soft palm!”

I had not experienced her palm as soft at all for the past ten or fifteen minutes. At least I think that’s how long my first erotic spanking lasted. As any submissive will tell you, time is rather infinitely flexible when one is being punished. Waiting for a first spank can seem interminable, but time can stretch vastly more when enduring painful kisses of impossibly hard wood on already tenderized bottom flesh. And as far as that hairbrush was concerned, I had indeed used it countless times during one of our bedtime rituals when Dad was away (as he was more often than not). I would brush Jeanne’s curly raven mop while she performed her nightly ablutions to keep her perfect complexion that way using this rather large oval hairbrush perhaps the size of a large man’s hand to give her hair the required hundred strokes that her own mother had prescribed. Then she would return the favor while holding me in her lap as we chatted all the while, debriefing our days in a friendly low-key way.

Well, my current experience with that same implement could not have been more diametrically opposite. If her hand had stung my backside, the ebony hairbrush frankly burned, and the fires it was lighting in my poor quivering bottom cheeks built terrifyingly. Soon, I found myself crying out with each spank, to my tormentress’ overt satisfaction which she was only too happy to voice:

“FINALLY I’m getting THROUGH to your wicked BOTTOM! Clearly my HAND was not severe ENOUGH to make a proper IMPRESSION on such a deeply NAUGHTY and unrepentant young MAN! I’m going to keep SPANKING these adorable little BUTTOCKS until their sinful OWNER finally learns his LESSON!...”

And so forth. Somehow this monologue punctuated by exhaled exclamations when the brush was inflicting its fiery kiss on my increasingly tender nates took me over an edge that I needed to cross regarding my unexpressed (or even felt) grief about my Dad. All of a sudden I burst into tears almost simultaneously with releasing a second orgasm between Jeanne’s glorious inner thighs as she cast aside the brush and gently stroked my newly crimsoned bottom cheeks while crooning,

“There, there now, dear Jake, you can have your cry and know your Mommy forgives you and it is all better.” The stepmother I had always known returned almost magically, her gentle touch exactly as I remembered it, except even more comforting on a very well-spanked posterior than the less eroticized places she had always previously delivered her warm physical affection. I felt drained and almost high (well, actually, as I knew from my Humbio studies, I WAS high, on Mother Nature’s own natural narcotic, endorphin). She tucked me into bed and turned out the light as she headed off to try to sleep in the same bed where my Father had died earlier that evening.

I was just drifting off when I heard a tentative knock at my door and said to enter. It was Jeanne, this time weeping herself, and still dressed in that gorgeous short burgundy silk robe that showed off her coloration so perfectly. Between sobs she blurted,

“I’m...so...sorry...Jake! It must have been the alcohol, or maybe the grief...but I shouldn’t have spanked you like that! I really feel terrible about it, and wish I could take it back! Please forgive me!”

Of course I did. I took her in my arms and held her and stroked her bock and hair while she cried it out again and I told her I’d do anything to help. Finally she slowed down and said between her tears,

“Jake, there IS something you can do for me that I think will help. I believe that the punishment should fit the crime, and I don’t think I’ll feel better about what I put you through until you do the same thing to me that I did to you. I want you to take me over your knee and spank me twice, once with your hand, and once with my hairbrush. And I want to put in a small vibrator that I’ve told you about for using with your girlfriends so that you can spank me until I orgasm at least twice just like I did you. I think that’s the only way I’m going to be able to live with my guilt.”

Well this was not a request I was going to think twice about granting. Something in me shifted and I went from submissive spanked boy to stern father figure as I responded in a voice I barely recognized,

“Very well, young lady. Turn on the overhead light so I can watch your punishment properly, and remove your clothing to stand in the corner just as you made me.”

She complied smiling ruefully through her tears, and I witnessed for the first and only time the lush womanly perfection that I had always imagined while stroking my c**k in that very same bed for over ten years. Jeanne was of medium height and possessed the classically hourglass shaped figure that has gone out of vogue in recent decades. Her waist was narrow but widened out into substantial hips made firm by years of dedicated riding and posting in a dressage saddle. Her breasts were equally generous and, never having lactated, retained a youthful firmness for their C cup size, capped with large erect dark pink n*****s and areoles. She stood facing me as her robe fell to the floor to reveal no other clothing beneath it, making no effort to hide her lush black pubes that failed to totally conceal the aroused state of her genitalia. Then she slowly turned and walked to the same corner I’d stood in an hour earlier, clearly enjoying displaying her large firm ass for my delectation.

My c**k had remained erect ever since she’d left me, though I hadn’t m*********d since it was slightly chafed from all of my squirming between her thighs. My newly discovered dominant side took over as I heard myself declaring in an imperious voice,

“You have been very naughty, Jeanne, and must be severely punished in order to set things right between us and within you. But I’m afraid you will require a third hairbrush spanking once we’ve taken care of those gorgeous buttocks. It seems to me your inner thighs took great advantage of my c**k, actually abrading it in their overenthusiasm. So you must hold them apart for me while I spank them until you orgasm a third time after we have delivered proper doses of painful medicine to those naughty bottom cheeks. Do you agree?”

Her eyes flashed as she blushed furiously and nodded her assent. I then went on,

“Very well, then. Where is the vibrator you were planning to use?”

She knelt gracefully to remove it along with the ebony hairbrush from the pocket of her robe lying puddled on the floor and handed them both to me while holding my gaze rather steamily. This was also a side of my stepmother I had sensed was present but never witnessed, and it turned me on enormously. My pajama bottoms were tented with the evidence of this, and I decided to throw caution to the winds and slipped them off, saying,

“I was spanked over your naked thighs, so it’s only fair that you take your punishment over mine. Let’s get that naughty bottom over my lap and that vibrator inside you and turned on.”

The s*x toy in question was a brilliant little high tech invention called the WeVibe. It had a flattened elliptical insert for a woman’s v****a that would rest against her G spot and an external arm that would encup her c******s, delivering optimal stimulation to her erogenous core. Jeanne had given me a copy for high school graduation and I had used it with great effect on many grateful young women during my undergraduate career, so I was well-acquainted with its virtues.

I took her spacious hips and guided them over my lap, secretly thrilling at the delicious clean barnyard scent of her arousal as I settled her brazenly feminine buttocks over my thighs. She received the same instructions she’d given me about her hands residing solely on the chair legs and her feet to be spread as wide as possible and the remain there under pain of additional spankings. Then I slipped the vibrator into her extremely well-lubricated v****a, parting her lips lovingly to achieve this as she moaned at the embarrassment of being so intimately revealed. I had an inspiration to add to her predicament even further, triggering the vibrator via its remote control while stroking Jeanne’s adorable firm bottom cheeks, each like a pristine ivory half-sphere while I murmured,

“If such a naughty stepmother is to be spanked until she comes, let’s not make that too soon, since things already seem rather steamy down here...perhaps I’ll just stroke these adorably female buttocks while we make her come right here over my lap...that way they’ll be optimally sensitized for their spankings, which is kind of ideal, don’t you agree, Jeanne?”

She only moaned, a sound I’d never heard from my usually dignified stepmother. I went on as I greatly enjoyed stroking that which I was about to spank,

“How strange it must be for you, after all these years of intense closeness between us in which I have always been the more vulnerable one and my s*x life the only one under discussion, to suddenly have your nakedness totally exposed in every way...and now I’m going to get to see how you come, just like you did me such a short time ago...you must feel so terribly vulnerable...”

At this rather gentle taunt, Jeanne’s hips started rhythmically plunging in what she had taught me were the unmistakable signs of impending female orgasm. And then she was coming, loudly and enthusiastically, her sweet cries of orgasm filling the quiet air of my bedroom for nearly a minute before they and she subsided.

That was my signal to begin her requested punishment. I had never spanked a woman before, and had no idea how hard to swing, so my first efforts were barely more than love taps that hardly left a mark on her large ivory buttocks. She said,

“If I’m to be properly chastised, Jake, you must hit me a lot harder...please...”

This request seemed to unlock something inside me, perhaps my own version of the anger (and anguish) of grief. My next spank was ten times as hard, leaving a vivid red handprint right in the middle of her left nether moon. I soon delivered a matching blow to her right cheek as she let out a satisfying soft cry of pain, not all that different from her verbal expressions of orgasm. And then I took a page from her book during the spanking I’d just received and began working my way steadily outward in a gentle spiral, going from side to side in rapid alternation, until after a dozen per buttock I had completely pinked up each of her adorable nates.

Then it was a matter of repeating that pattern over and over again, as her cries grew in intensity proportionate to the palpable heat I was building in her quivering backside. By the beginning of the fifth go-around, she was bright crimson back there, and had burst into tears. This was my signal to focus my blows on the tender undercurves where ass cheek meets thigh and crotch, spanking hard and moving back and forth just as she had with me. This had the very same effect on my erstwhile tormentress as soon she was coming even harder than she had while I was stroking her. Her strong voluptuous body bucked enchantingly on my lap as I spanked her home until her last orgasmic frisson subsided into the rasping sound of her diminishing breaths.

I stroked her tight, burning buttocks, amazed at how they had changed during the course of the past twenty minutes, and asked,

“Ready for your next dose, Jeanne?”

She took a while before I heard in a small, almost childlike voice,

“I guess so...but please, Jake, the brush is so hard, and my bottom is so sore...perhaps not quite so hard?”

Now that the edge had been taken off of my grief-stricken rage, I had no desire to inflict anything more on her than she desired. So I took up the ebony hairbrush that had so humbled my own intentions to take my licking stoically and stroked its now quite cool surface on its impending targets. Then I began her second spanking more sedately, following the same pattern but interspersing each crisp collision of hard wood on tender flesh with lots of stroking and comforting. This approach seemed to have the desired effect of rendering her chastisement into a more overt act of lovemaking, as her arousal (quite apparent to me given the wide spread of her legs that revealed her entire p***y quite blatantly) rapidly peaked. Only about half as many stinging spanks from the ebony wood fell on their clenching and quivering targets before a third orgasm, even still more powerful than the last, shook her lovely body for well over a minute.

After I stroked her for a long while until she had completely calmed, I spoke,

“Jeanne, I promised you a third spanking on your inner thighs, but I only want to deliver it if you are willing. It will be harder for you because in order to punish you properly there I think I will need to position you on your back on the bed with your legs held wide apart by your hands. We can stop now if you want, so you will need to decide what’s best for you.”

There was a long silence as I continued to soothe her poor inflamed buttocks before she replied,

“Jake, I think I need and deserve it, so if you’ll help me up, I’ll do as you say and take one final dose of the proper medicine for a girl as bad as I’ve been.”

I knew about punishing women in this position from my readings in the vast literature of b**m pornography, and had always imagined it to be an unmatched erotic spectacle to have a woman in that position. And indeed, once she had placed a towel on my spread (explaining that she tended to be a bit messy down there as I had noticed during her orgasms over my lap) and assumed the position I was far from disappointed. Spanking her in this way I was going to be able to see every microexpression on her beautiful beloved face, as well as watching her glorious large breasts move during her spanking, a sight I’d missed when she was over my lap. She looked at me almost pitifully as I took up the brush, and pleaded,

“I’ve never been spanked there before, Jake, so please don’t hurt me too badly...”

“Only as badly as you need and deserve, Jeanne, I promise.”

There was plenty of room beneath her blatantly parted bottom for me to sit comfortably cross-legged on my bed a foot away from her. I could not help but notice, as did she once I propped her head on a pillow so she could watch the proceedings (unlike her first two spankings where she’d been gazing at the floor. This time, she could meet my eyes, or check out my c**k, or actually watch the brush as it descended time and time again to punish the virginal flesh of her inner thighs. This position also floridly revealed a truth was mortifying to my gorgeous young stepmother: the harder she was spanked, the more strongly did her p***y exude the incontrovertible liquid evidence of how a plurality of her felt about what was happening to her. I cheerfully pointed this out as the fierce ebony hairbrush worked its way from the tender hollows behind her knees to the equally sensitive creases defining her buttocks and crotch from her legs. In less extreme spanking positions, I had read that these regions were best reached with a switch. But with her crotch splayed so powerfully, the rounded surface of the brush made crisp contact with every nerve ending, making its owner scream with the pain of each spank. If her secretions had not reassured me that this was all a turn on for her, I would have stopped. But instead I continued, and after ten minutes of spanking in which her inner thighs were brought to the same level of inflammation as her buttocks, she came. Explosively, harder than ever before, screaming out her pleasure in time to the flat smacks of hard ebony against unimaginably tender erogenous flesh.

And that was that. I cast aside the brush and let Jeanne decide how to come out of her position. She lay flat on the bed as I shamelessly looked at her naked beauty for the first and only time in my life. Then she said,

“It wasn’t really lovemaking, just well-deserved punishment for both or us, right, Jake? Our hands and mouths and genitals didn’t touch each other, so I choose to not see this as s*x. I know you might think me a hypocrite about that, but I think that is the only way I’m going to be living with this. Now I’m headed to bed to sleep it off, and in the morning we won’t be talking about this, and go on just as if it never happened.”

I was nothing short of stunned. It was like Jeanne opened up a glimpse into an incredible erotic world, provided me with by far the hottest s****l experience of my life, and then slammed that door right in my face. I nodded stonily, muttered something about it having been the most confusing day of my life, and went to sleep within seconds of turning off my bedside light. But my usually psychologically savvy stepmother was way off on this one. A line had been crossed, and we both never felt the same (or even comfortable) about each other. Just like that, I’d lost my father and my best lifelong friend in one shattering evening.