Miss Sandra Chapter 11

By NAMB

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and/or sexual activity of preteen and young teen children. This is fantasy, and the author in no way endorses or practices these things on real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.
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Chapter 11
-=A Chaste Week=-

Spencer and I were dismissed like errant 8-year-old boys with their hands caught in the cookie jar.

We couldn’t even talk to each other. I knew deep down that the girls were right. We were being selfish. The girls didn’t have to do what they did. Of course they liked doing things to us, but we liked those things too. At least I did.

And I had to admit, I got myself into this mess. It may not have turned out the way I planned, but how could it? Once I gave control to Sandra, things were in her hands: and not even in her hands; events shaped the outcome.

I am fairly certain that she could have predicted Tammy’s involvement and might have even envisioned ensnaring another boy in their web of dominance. However I don’t even think she would have ever thought that she would be mentor to younger girls in the process.

I suppose her role as a mentoring dominatrix (a word I had come to learn since becoming Sandra’s boyfriend) was enviable. She was trained by the best – Eileen – and it is very possible that in a couple of years, she too will be babysitting. Someone has to train the new generation of girls about the power they have over boys. I can see Sandra in that role.

However, at the moment my heart was in my shoes. For the better part of the last couple of hours, Spencer and I had been on the receiving end of a well-earned beratement. The girls were disappointed in our behavior and that made me disappointed in myself.

I actually felt lucky that there was someone who was interested in disciplining me to be a better person. Even my mom noticed how polite I had become and the inclusion of “ma’am” in my addressing her friends and even my aunts when they came to visit.

If it weren’t for Sandra’s training, I would probably be at home, locked in the bathroom, secretly wanking off to some magazine and rushing the job so I wouldn’t get caught. Sandra taught me that every ejaculation was worth waiting for, even those administered by inexperienced 10-year-old girls.

I was also taught that every ejaculation had to be earned. There was a time when I was like other boys, grabbing my penis whenever it hardened and jerking it off on the spot.

Ejaculations served a purpose. In nature that purpose was for procreation. In my relationship with the girls, their purpose was recreation. Why should I squander them on myself when the girls obviously enjoyed seeing them and causing them?

Erections also served a purpose. They show respect for the girls present. Spencer and I were required to stay hard whenever we were naked in the presence of the girls. They also appreciated our being hard while out on a date even though our clothing hid most of the evidence.

Whenever I would get an erection, I would think of the girls and enjoy having it in their honor instead of beating it to death in a masturbatory moment of self-weakness.

I might have been dressed down, but I knew it was for my own good. I promised myself to be more respectful and aware of the girls’ sensitivities in the future.

-=o=-

The girls were good to their word, and kept their hands off of us for the next several days. Our “dates” were marred by the cold-shoulder treatment from the girls. I came to appreciate how fun their company could be even outside of the sex games we played, and hoped for a change back to those sunnier days.

Sunday wasn’t so bad as Spencer and I normally didn’t get masturbated on those days. However as Sunday moved into Monday and Monday became Tuesday, things became worse. I was beginning to understand the meaning of the term, “Blue Balls.”

Spencer noticed it too. “Man, I hope the girls get over their anger with us soon. My testicles feel like they’re going to burst. Normally, I don’t even know I have balls. Now I’m constantly aware of how much they are there.”

“Mine, too,” I concurred.

We thought that we were off the hook finally on Wednesday when the girls took us home and had us undress. But we were disappointed.

“Assume position number 1,” Sandra commanded. “and turn around. Tammy and I want to see if those butts need a refresher.”

After an inspection they determined that we did, indeed, need a “warming up.” Fortunately, they did not use their sneakers so comparatively it was a light spanking. I always enjoyed the physical sensation of Sandra’s hand on my butt.

Both Spencer and I were hard and dripping as we dismounted from the laps of our respective girlfriends.

That night, I wanted so much to masturbate. I had been walking around with an erection for most of the day. Trying to sleep was difficult, but I finally did manage it.

There was Sandra. She and Tammy had Spencer and me standing in Position Number 1 facing the class. Only the boys weren’t there, just the girls. Sandra and Tammy wanted us to do something for the girls but I couldn’t understand what. They started yelling at us for being “stupid boys.”

I awoke from the dream with a warm feeling – a warm and very moist feeling in my crotch. I had been so used to masturbating or being masturbated, that I had never experienced a nocturnal emission before.

I found myself wondering about the trigger for this wet dream. It would seem logical if I were imagining being masturbated by Sandra or even one of the other girls. But nothing sexual was happening. Spencer and I were just there, standing in Position Number 1, naked I presume, although the details of the dream didn’t really reveal that.

Such was the power of control that the girls had over me that their mere words could have me ejaculate. I knew that my road to submission was complete. There was no turning back. I could only move in one direction: deeper into the pit of domination.

Later that day, with Sandra, I had to confess. “Miss Sandra, please don’t get angry with me, but I had a cum without your permission.”

She glared at me until I quickly added, “I didn’t mean to. It happened in my sleep. I wasn’t even touching myself. I just want you to know.”

I think she was ready to call, “Bullshit,” when Spencer stepped in and said, “That used to happen to me to.”

“Is that true?” Tammy asked.

“I swear, Miss Tammy. It’s true. It happens.”

“So when was the last time?” she demanded.

“It was before I met you girls. I think …” he paused. “I think it has something to do with not getting it off. So if a guy jerks off he kind of taps it out. Otherwise, it just sort of backs up until the body can’t take it anymore and it explodes out.”

Luckily, the girls seemed to buy it.

“So if we jerk you off, it won’t happen to you in bed?” Sandra asked.

Both of us nodded vigorously hoping that the girls would take sympathy on us and save us from nocturnal emissions.

Sympathy was not forthcoming and Spencer and I dragged our blue balls all the way to Saturday.

(The End)