Natural Inclinations Pt. 01

Without any prompting, both of her children gleefully repeated, "GIRL POWER! GIRL POWER!" and all three had a good laugh.

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Chapter 4

"I am very disappointed in you, Peter. First, you make an offer to help, then attempt to get out of it. Well, I don't go for that, mister. Not one bit." Janice still had a death grip on young Peter's arm, which not only left him immobile, it also had him cowering in fear. "Are you in the habit of lying? I have no tolerance for boys who tell lies."

Peter offered only the slightest resistance when she dragged him across the room and bent him over the arm of the sofa. Almost before he knew what was happening, she had pulled down the waistband of his shorts and briefs, exposing his bare bottom. WHACK! She gave him a swift and well-aimed slap on his keister. "Oww!" Peter shouted.

"Are you in the habit of telling lies?" she asked then, without waiting for him to reply, she smacked his butt again. WHACK!

It had been countless years since Peter's last spanking. Still, to him, it suddenly seemed like only yesterday when he last suffered such humiliating punishment at the hands of his mother, aunt, or grandmother. And one of the most important lessons he had learned was, above all else, lay there and take it. That, and never attempt to block or otherwise cause delaying fulfillment of punishment.

"This is what happens to boys who lie" WHACK!

Peter's face was buried into the sofa cushion, tears filled his eyes. Janice didn't let up. "Are you going to lie to me anymore?"

The cushion muffled his quivering reply. All that could clearly be heard was his pitiful whimpering. WHACK! "I can't hear you." WHACK! "Because," WHACK! "this" WHACK! "is what," WHACK! "happens," WHACK! "to boys," WHACK! "who," WHACK! "lie."

By this point, Peter was a blubbering mess. Janice grabbed a handful of hair and lifted his face from the tear-soaked sofa cushion. "Well? What do you have to say?"

Through childlike sobbing, Peter apologized profusely and pleaded for mercy.

Janice couldn't help but take pity on the young man. Tenderly pulling him to his feet, she drew him towards her until he was pressed against her. This was all too familiar to him -- humiliating punishment followed by the punisher and the punished hugging each other. He lay his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back by wrapping one arm around his waist as her other hand gently rubbed his red and swollen ass.

Again this was so much like the way all of his childhood spankings had ended. And just like then, a whole new round of tears and sobs could not be contained. Peter was old enough to know that his actions and reactions were extremely childish, yet he couldn't seem to help himself. Even though the very same hands that had issued the pain and caused the emotional outburst, just now, they were providing the exact form of comfort and tenderness he needed.

Eventually, Peter settled down to the point that Janice stopped massaging his butt cheeks and raised his pants back into place. But before completely releasing him, she placed a hand under his chin and guided his lips to hers.

Peter had never kissed anyone on the lips before. Even so, he knew this had to be one of the most tender kisses known to any man. And it was coming from a woman twice his age.

Then, using her thumbs, Janice wiped his tear-streaked cheeks, gave him a tender smile, moved her hands to each side of his face, and kissed him again. Only this kiss had much more heat and intensity. As if this was a scene in a movie, Peter's hands moved to either side of his tormentor's waist, pulling her midsection into his.

A tickle on his lips sparked some previously hidden instinct that told him to relax his jaw and accept her tongue past his teeth and reciprocate by sliding his tongue into her accepting mouth. Obviously, French kissing was completely foreign to him, but he had seen enough movies to grasp what to do. For a first-timer, he performed admirably.

By the time their kiss broke, they had eased their grasp on each other. Now more than his jaw was relaxed. HE was completely relaxed.

Still dazed by this woman's change of disposition, he was transfixed once more by those mysterious eyes of hers. Without blinking, she stared into his eyes, and he couldn't look away. She seemed to be peering into his soul, penetrating his very being. As if sending subliminal messages.

He vaguely recalled an earlier urge to leave, yet now he couldn't fathom why. Although the lingering sting of his backside reminded him that Janice was not someone to be taken lightly, the feeling of being hugged and kissed by her, the way she cuddled him, and how good it felt pressing his body to hers and touching her smooth skin suddenly made it all seem worthwhile.

When she did finally blink, somehow, the fear and the pain had faded from his consciousness. Instead of wanting to leave, his only urge was to stay.

More than anything, he wanted her attention. With luck, that attention would be pleasurable, not painful. He would do whatever she asked and do it without causing her displeasure. Pleasing Miss Janice was suddenly a priority.

Sounding overly eager, he heard himself ask, "What would you like me to help you with next?"

As if someone had created a 'do-over' button, Janice reacted like it was the first time he'd made such an offer. With a flash of delight on her face, she sounded surprised and said, "Why, thank you for offering to help me, Peter." The cheerfulness in her voice was hypnotically pleasing to Peter's ears. "Yes. I could really use some help getting these boxes upstairs. They are just a little too heavy for me to carry."

Just one look at Janice, and anyone could tell that she was very fit and quite capable of handling those boxes. But Peter was anxious to demonstrate that he was up for the task. Without hesitating, Peter picked up the first box while doing his best to make it appear that it was not the least bit difficult.

Leading him up to the spare bedroom, she said, "This is so sweet of you to help me out like this. I had no idea you were so strong." Her words were music to his ears.

For the next three-plus hours, she had her eager-beaver helper doing any task she could come up with, only stopping now and then for a sip of water. But he never once did he complain. And those sips of water, well, they were soon replaced with glasses of wine. And sips soon turned into gulps.

While moving things from one room to another, he realized that this house, aside from being on a corner lot with a dead-end street on the far side, the layout was just like his. At least on the inside. However, out in the backyard, there was a large concrete patio and a Jacuzzi hot tub.

As a way to keep him motivated, every so often, she would sprinkle compliments and "at-a-boys" his way. A few times, he did do something that she would find displeasure in. Each time that happened, Peter would just about fall over himself to make up for his miss-step.

When not giving directions or offering supportive comments, she engaged Peter in casual conversation -- mostly about him. As he grew to be more and more comfortable with her, the more he revealed about himself. But after refilling his glass with more wine and watching him down it in one gulp, her questions became more probing. And Peter was all too soon unable to hold back with his answers about his school and home life.

He wasn't drunk, per se. But his inhibitions were greatly reduced.

While he was deeply involved in assembling a bookcase for her between sipping from his third glass of wine, she decided it was time to discover his level of sexual experience. So she broke out the age-old baseball metaphor. Working her way backward around the baseball diamond, and as she kind of suspected, he confirmed that he had never reached home plate and was still a virgin. Likewise, he'd never even made it to third base by touching a girl's vagina either.

However, Janice was somewhat surprised when Peter admitted that he had been unable to kiss or even touch a girl's breasts so far. Eighteen years old, and he hadn't even made it to second base?! Well, she was certain that at the very least, her virginal next-door neighbor had gotten to first base. Unless...

"Please don't misunderstand my asking you this..." she hesitated briefly before continuing. "Believe me, no matter what your answer, it won't make any difference to me. But..." Janice's voice became more stern. "And remember, you know what happens if you lie. So, if you were to ask anyone, anyone at all, to go out on a date, would you ask out a guy or a girl?

Peter almost dropped the plate glass shelf he was about to insert. He looked absolutely stunned. Why in the world would anyone even ask such a question. "A GIRL! Miss Janice. Geez! I like girls."

From his reaction, she could tell that he answered truthfully. And for reasons only she understood, Janice felt a wave of relief. Outwardly, she simply said, "Oh. Okay. I didn't want there to be any misunderstandings between us." She could tell that she'd touched a sensitive nerve. "Don't you just hate it when people make assumptions about someone's sexual preference?"

Now that was a sentiment Peter could relate to. "I agree. It's just that no one has ever asked me that before." But then he did spill the beans about being bullied from time-to-time about his long hair and his looks. When Janice asked him what he meant by 'his looks,' he said that some of the guys teased him by saying his face was prettier than some girls and that he should wear makeup and dresses. So Janice asked if any of the girls ever said that to him. "Well, only the girls who hung out with those few bullies."

She poured him another glass of wine, and as she watched him take a healthy swig, she offered her sympathy for his misfortune, adding, "Well, I think you are very handsome. And by the way, I happen to like long hair on young men."

He thanked her and got back to work finishing the bookcase.

Peter was now about to finish his fourth glass, and it was more than beginning to show. Struggling now, he did his best, soldiering on with his next assigned task.

After giving the additional wine a chance to be absorbed, she finally asked, "So tell me, Peter, when you have gone out on dates, how often have you gotten to first base?" Peter's face turned red and then confessed, "Before you kissed me, I had never kissed anyone on the lips before." Janice was stunned and wondered aloud how that could be?

Although it was embarrassing to admit it with slurred speech, he told her, "For the most part, everyone treats me like a ghost. You know. Like I'm not even there. I've only gotten three girls to go out with me after school to the ice cream stand. But almost as soon as I'd pay, they see their other friends, and that's that." By the time he got to the end, he was choking on his words, and a tiny tear ran down his cheek. That was the first time he had ever spoken of it. Not even his mother knew.

Janice was so touched that she opened her arms and motioned for Peter to get a hug. At the same time, his confessions told Janice all she needed to know. Young Peter was a friendless loner. Hungry for attention and starving for affection. AND he was completely devoid of any sexual experience.

If there had been any doubt before, she was now certain that, as long as she didn't rush things, Peter would ultimately do anything she asked. The boy was completely unaware of just how defenseless he was to stop what she had in mind. Sure, it would have been so much easier had she been able to begin his treatments a dozen years earlier, as Janice's mother had done to her brother. But then again, where is the challenge in that?

Right now, Peter believes that he is only interested in girls. That will change in time. His Miss Janice would make sure of that. She was an expert at what she did. And Peter was about to become her latest, and quite likely, her greatest achievement.

By the time she was through with him, she will have done more than turning him into a happy little sissy. Janice had even grander plans. Her new aim was to take Peter's sissification further than she had ever done with any of her previous submissives.