tagIncest/TabooPunishing The Unruly Son Ch. 02

Punishing The Unruly Son Ch. 02


As we were driving home from the mall, Mom was the one that finally brought up the sensitive topic I was absolutely dying to get details on.

"Sandra," Mom began, "I've been thinking about your little brother's erections and his masturbation needs while he's being punished. It's something we need to make decisions on - you and me together, before we sit down to talk to him this afternoon."

I nodded my head as I drove, simply saying, "Okay."

"I think we have to realize a few things." Mom continued. "A young man his age is going to get erections -- plenty of them. They're going to be spontaneous and they could end up being quite frequent. We can't just ignore them, and in fact, they'll probably end up being beneficial in the grand scheme of things."

Mom explained what she meant, telling me we should openly acknowledge his erections, suggesting the two of us, if possible, both make a point of looking at his erect penis when it happens. Her reasoning had to do with heightening his embarrassment and humiliation, especially if his hard-ons got to be prolonged or recurring. What she had in mind made my stomach flutter, and just as calmly as if she was talking about flowers in her flowerbed, she gave me her thoughts.

"When we see him with an erection," Mom said, "let's make sure we both say something so he'll know we've noticed it. I'm okay with us making innocent little remarks or comments about his condition, or his penis, as long as they aren't hurtful to him. But, if they last more than.... let's say ten minutes, then we'll have him come stand in front of us and display himself. If he's wearing panties, you or I will pull his panties down to his knees and we'll just look at him. Maybe that kind of direct attention will cause his erection to go down, and if it does, we'll praise him, pull his panties back up and go on with whatever we were doing."

"What if it doesn't go down?" I asked.

"I'm going to keep a supply of moist washcloths in the refrigerator, Sandra." Mom answered. "If his erection doesn't go down, we'll wrap his penis and testicles with a cold washcloth and I'm sure that will do the trick."

Without missing a beat, she told me as part of his punishment he wasn't going to be allowed to touch himself, so we'd have to apply the washcloth for him. Before I could even react to what she'd just said, she continued.

"Sandra, you and I will be touching him a lot, so just accept it now and don't get hung up on it. Don't forget, he's being deprived of all his privacy, rights and privileges, so in effect, we have every right to touch him anytime we want and for whatever reason we deem necessary."

As examples, Mom told me we'd be bathing him daily, and as part of that, we'd be touching his whole body, including his penis and testicles. We'd be holding his penis for him when he went to pee, and we'd be touching him even more intimately when we took his temperature rectally. She even went as far as to tell me we should both take liberties with him and touch him as thoroughly and as frequently as we wanted to, even if he had an erection.

"He's got to realize that he has no power over anything right now." She said. "The more we assert ourselves over him, even if it's embarrassing or humiliating, that's the quicker he'll learn his lesson."

"It's for his own good, Sandra." Mom told me. "The punishment will only be effective if we are firm and demonstrate to him that we are the ones making the decisions."

"Something else," Mom added, "I've made the decision to use masturbation as a reward. Boys his age can get the urge to masturbate three or four times a day -- that's not unheard of at all. And since he's not going to be able to touch himself, we'll have to do it for him."

"Mom!" I exclaimed. "Surely you're not serious?"

"Oh, I'm completely serious!" She replied quickly. "Your father wasn't the first and only man I ever had sex with. I'm quite sure I'm still able to give a satisfying handjob, and I'm assuming by now, you've learned to do it, too."

"Well, yeah." I groaned. "But, isn't that a little weird? Masturbating my own brother?"

"The whole thing is a little weird." Mom said with a little chuckle. "But, we have an excellent opportunity here to show him that respecting us and being nice to us will bring him praise and reward. For a young man his age, can you think of a better reward than a free handjob?"

Mom went further, explaining to me how one of us would go into his bedroom and masturbate him the first thing every morning. "I'm telling you, Sandra, we really have no choice. We'll have to do it." Mom explained. "When they first wake up, they always have an erection..... a really urgent one. And, they need to masturbate before they can pee."

Mom reasoned it out for me, saying we'd handle it right away every morning. We'd be gentle and soothing with him while we did it. We'd reinforce the fact that we would masturbate him again that night -- but only if he was good the whole day...... that's where the reward part of it came in. He'd have to learn that if he wanted relief at the end of the day, he'd have to be on his best behavior.

"I guess I can foresee the possibility that he might do something to merit a reward through the middle of the day." Mom said, as we drove. "If that becomes necessary, let's try to make a big deal out of it..... you know, praise him for what he did and then reinforce the good behavior by giving him a really superb handjob..... maybe even use some lubricant. We should stretch it out and let him enjoy it for a while before we make him ejaculate. Ideally, we should both be there, maybe even take turns stroking him and touching him so he'll see we're both praising and rewarding him."

"But," Mom added with a serious tone, "if he's not good, or if he doesn't earn a reward, all he's going to get is his morning relief each day. That's it. We have to be together on this, Sandra. I don't care if we touch him, stroke him and play with him a hundred times each day and then leave him high and dry. I don't want him to enjoy the pleasures of an orgasm unless it's his freebie in the morning, or, if he earns it by good behavior."

She mentioned she'd read something on one of the web sites about making males clean up, or eat, their own semen after they ejaculated as an added point of humiliation. She wasn't sure if we should be doing that, but, she said she was open to it and asked my opinion.

"Honestly, Mom," I answered, "I'd personally never have any kind of relationship with a man who expected me to taste or swallow his sperm, but wouldn't do the same."

"Oh, I completely agree." Mom replied. "And, your father was really good about that -- he didn't have any hesitancy to kiss me or..... uh, you know, lick me down there after we had sex."

But, for a young man, Mom said we'd have to be careful because it could be traumatic. "They're so worried about being manly and asserting their masculine image." She told me. "In your brother's case, though, given everything else we're doing, we have to keep the option on the table."

Mom and I agreed we would keep that in the back of our minds and if the opportunity presented itself, maybe we'd see how Bobby might react to cleaning up his own sperm.

"Mom," I said, as we pulled off the main road into our subdivision, "I need to ask you something and I hope you're not going to get mad at me for asking this."

She gave me a look, shook her head back and forth, and, told me she wouldn't get mad.

"Well," I began, "all this talk about dressing Bobby in panties..... and him being naked...... erections, displaying himself, touching him, giving him handjobs, bathing him..... all that. You know, I'm not sure I can do all this stuff without being..... uh.... a little turned on. Do you understand what I'm getting at here?"

"Okay. Okay." Mom replied, interrupting me. "I get what you're saying, and that's been on my mind, too. Since you brought it up, I'm going to be honest with you and I expect you to be honest with me, too. Agreed?" She asked.

I glanced at her quickly and nodded my head.

"It's true that just about everything we're doing has a sexual connotation, Sandra. I'm not blind to that." Mom said to me. "I know he's my son, but, he's also a male, and I'm struggling with the same fears you probably are -- that I'm going to get sexually aroused during his punishment."

Mom sighed and took a deep breath as she continued speaking, telling me it was normal for us to be aroused by what we were doing. She admitted she'd been having visions and daydreams about seeing Bobby naked and especially about touching his penis. She came right out and told me her underwear had been getting increasingly wetter since this morning, but added that she didn't feel even the slightest bit of regret over it.

"I'm going to try to maintain a motherly perception." She told me. "At least on the surface - as best I can in front of him. But," she said adamantly, "that doesn't mean I have to quit being a woman the next seven days. I'm going to try hard to keep from being obvious about being turned-on. How I'm going to do that, I don't know -- especially when I've got my hand wrapped around his penis trying to masturbate him."

She told me it was imperative that Bobby didn't get the impression we were using his punishment as an excuse to satisfy our own desires, and as long as he didn't think that, she felt we were probably okay in taking advantage of the situation for our own personal enjoyment.

Mom was blushing when I slowed down at a stop sign and looked over at her. "I guess I'm in the same position you are." I said, quietly. "You won't hear any condemnation from me about anything you might do, and I hope that goes both ways."

"Agreed." Mom answered as we turned to look at each other. Then, as we exchanged looks, she raised her eyebrows and said, "If, for some reason, you think your brother would benefit from you spending some time alone with him, then of course, you should feel free to do that."

"And you should have that same opportunity, too." I said, meeting her stare directly. "Maybe we should have a code word...... or a signal...... something to tell the other person to disappear for a few minutes."

"That's a good idea, Sandra." Mom agreed. "How about this -- if we see the other person scratch their elbow, that will be the sign to ask for...... uh.... fifteen minutes alone. Does that sound okay?"

"Perfect." I answered. "And if the person scratches both elbows, that means thirty minutes."

Although we knew we were talking in euphemisms, Mom and I both knew exactly what we were saying to each other. As I pulled up into the driveway and shut the car off, she turned to me and asked, "Is that settled now?"

"I think it is." I said, trying hard not to giggle as I reached behind the seat to pick up the bags full of bras and panties from the mall. As I was stepping out of the car, Mom asked me to hold on for a second. She was just pulling her cell phone out of her purse.

"I'm calling Mr. Hathaway again." She said, softly. "I'll see if he can come over in twenty minutes to install the deadbolt."

"But, what about Bobby?" I asked. "Won't he get suspicious if he sees Mr. Hathaway installing deadbolts inside the house?"

"Nope." Mom quipped. "I'm going to send him out to get a haircut. He'll be gone for at least a couple of hours -- I've already arranged it."

I didn't realize my mother was as sneaky as she was, and as I waited for her to finish her phone call, I wondered what other surprises she was planning for my sweet little brother.

I was definitely glad we had the little talk about being turned-on by what was about to happen to Bobby, and I was gratified to hear I wasn't the only one whose panties were getting wetter and wetter. And while I hadn't yet envisioned myself doing anything overtly sexual with my little brother, the stage was certainly set for me to consider it and Mom had already blessed it.

But, it went both ways. I let Mom know she had the same option as far as I was concerned. And, as she finished her call to Mr. Hathaway, I wondered which one of us would be the first one to scratch our elbows.

Mom and I smiled at each other as we walked into the house. We literally ran smack dab into Bobby as he lugged the vacuum cleaner down the stairs to put it away. "All done!" He exclaimed.

Mom and I burst out laughing as he stood in front of us with his hands on his hips and a proud look on his face. I briefly wondered how he was going to feel in a few hours when he was standing naked in front of us. How proud would he feel then?

Mom handed me the bags full of bras and panties and then followed him upstairs to check his work. I took the opportunity to put all our bags in my room, carefully hiding them behind my bed, and then joined the two of them in Bobby's room where I beheld an absolute miracle.

My little brother's room was spotless, clean and fresh. Mom and I both walked around the room trying to find something out of place or untidy, but neither of us found anything worth criticizing. Mom was completely overwhelmed, and when she put her arms around him and gave him a big hug, you should have seen the smile that beamed from Bobby's face. It was the first time in a long time he'd let her hug him, and she rubbed his back and told him what a wonderful job he'd done.

"Well," Mom said to him, "I can't say I didn't think you had it in you, but, this is a good start to what I hope is going to be a change for the better, young man."

Then, without pausing, she stepped back away from him and told him she wanted him to take my car and go get his hair cut. She told him she'd already made an appointment for him and she wanted him to come back with his hair shorter, and she didn't want it to be shaggy looking anymore. Bobby surprised us both when he immediately agreed, and after she told him where the appointment was, I gave him the car keys out of my purse. Mom gave him twenty dollars, and told him to get going.

Without any other conversation, Bobby skipped down the stairs and was on his way. Mom turned to me and with a frenzied look on her face and said, "We've got about two hours to get a lot done."

Mr. Hathaway would be over soon to put the deadbolt on Dad's old office door, and once he was done with that, Mom told me we were going to start boxing up every piece of clothing Bobby had in his room, and take it, along with the clothes from his closet, and start moving them into Dad's old office.

While we were talking, Mr. Hathaway rang the door bell and Mom let him in. Within five minutes he'd already set to work marking the holes and drilling the door and the frame. By the time he was done, we'd brought in a bunch of empty boxes from the garage and stacked them on my little brother's bed.

While Mom thanked Mr. Hathaway and saw him to the door, I began looking through Bobby's closet and his drawers to see how much we had to box up and move. Mom told me she had to make a quick phone call, but then she'd be right up.

Five minutes later, Mom walked into the room with an evil grin on her face. "I just talked to my friend, Joyce, at her salon. You're not going to believe this, but, she told me they do male body waxing now."

"Oh, Mom!" I exclaimed. "You wouldn't do that to him, would you?"

"Actually, I was thinking more about just a bikini wax for your brother." Mom answered, as she giggled. "We can shave his legs and underarms here, ourselves. The humiliation he'd get here from us would be fun to see, but, can you imagine how he'd feel at a salon, having to strip down while he was wearing a bra and panties...... in front of one of their attendants, and then getting his crotch waxed?"

"I'd love to be there to see that." I said, giggling along with her.

"Well," Mom replied, "you might get your chance. Joyce is going to look at their schedule for tomorrow to see if they have any double openings. Apparently it takes twice as long to wax a male as it does a female, so she has to check into it, but she said she'd call me back."

We joked and snickered about shaving Bobby's legs and watching him get a bikini wax. Mom was just beside herself, patting herself on the back for coming up with such a wonderful idea. "It'll grow back." Mom said, justifying what she was doing. "And I think it's an appropriate addition to his punishment."

Mom looked at the alarm clock on Bobby's desk and shook her head, saying we better get busy. Together, we began to take stacks of clothes out of his dresser and put them neatly into the boxes. As we did this, I calmly asked her if I could be the one to shave Bobby's legs and underarms. Without even thinking about it, she said, "Sure, Sandra. That's fine."

After a second, though, she stopped me and said, "If Joyce calls me back to confirm an appointment for tomorrow, he'll need to have his first bath tonight so we can have his legs shaved before he goes to get waxed."

Then, as if it was too complicated to figure out, she threw her hands up in the air and said, "If she can get us in tomorrow, then you're elected to give your little brother his first bath tonight. But, be careful shaving his pits and legs. Let's try not to cut him up."

Mom and I both howled in laughter at the prospect of Bobby's underarms and legs being shaved silky smooth, just like we did ours. In a way, it went along with dressing him up in bras and panties, and I agreed with Mom that it fit perfectly with his punishment.

"Okay, we need to focus now, Sandra." Mom said. "He won't need anything from his dresser for the next seven days -- not even underwear. We'll keep out one or two of his hanging shirts, along with a pair of jeans from his closet. If someone comes to visit or if we end up going out, we'll make him wear his bra and panties under his boy clothes."

We'd already emptied out three of his drawers and were working on the last two when I heard Mom gasp. Turning to look at her, she was standing there with her jaw open and her hand over her mouth. She was looking down into one of Bobby's drawers and her face had turned white.

I went to stand next to her and looked down into the drawer. There, apparently hidden under the stacks of clothes I'd just pulled out and placed in a box, were several pairs of panties -- at least two of which I recognized were mine.

Seeing my panties in my little brother's drawer stopped me cold, and as soon as I saw them, I immediately knew there was only one reason why they'd be there. Mom and I looked at each other and I reached down to pick up the two that were mine. "I thought I'd thrown these away." I said, holding the panties with my fingertips.

Mom reached in and picked up the remaining three pairs and shook her head. "These are mine." She said. "They were a little stretched out, so I threw them away one at a time after wearing them -- I didn't see any reason to wash them."

Before I could say another word, Mom held up one of the pairs of her panties and we could both see they were encrusted with little white spots. I looked at mine and both of them had the same dried, crusty spots. Mom and I looked at each other and neither one of us said a word. There was no need to say anything, we both knew exactly what the spots were and how they must have gotten there.

Finally, I had to say something. "Mother, he's been using our panties when he jacks off."

"It would seem so." She said, holding another pair of her panties up and looking at them closely. After a few seconds, though, she turned to me and smiled.

"Actually, this is fine." She said, giggling. "He'll discover them gone out of his drawer, along with everything else - but he won't know if we actually saw them in our haste to pack up his stuff. He won't be sure what happened, and we'll be careful not to mention it."

"But," Mom chuckled, "we know something about him we didn't know before -- that he's got some kind of attraction to our panties, and we can use that. Maybe he just likes wrapping them around his penis when he strokes himself...... or maybe he just likes to look at them."

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