Tommy’s Masturbation Problem

Tommy’s Masturbation Problem 2

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 2

Mrs. Stevens glared at us, “Yes, I do think it’s time for Tommy to get dressed, but first I need to talk to all of you.”

First she explained how she was hanging out the laundry and a piece blew off the line and landed in front of the bathroom window. When she went to fetch it she noticed us inside.

“At first I thought you girls were just interested in seeing Tommy pee. That would have been bad enough but then I thought, ‘Why is he completely naked and why is Barbara holding his penis?’ Not just holding it but actually stroking it.

What were you girls doing?”

This question was met with silence. So she turned to me and asked, “Why were you naked? Why were you letting the girls touch you like that?”

I had no answer either.

“This activity will not go unpunished,” she finally added. “We’ll start with you, Tommy. You’re the oldest and you should know better. You’re a boy, so I bet you started it. I want you over my lap now.”

I couldn’t believe it. This goddess who I just worshipped moments ago was going to spank me and humiliate me in front of her daughters and her niece. I was too shocked to resist. I walked to where she had sat down and got over her lap with zombie-like distraction.

I was aware of the moment being draped over her legs. My penis nestled in the slot just below the crotch of her shorts. It was an inch from the seat of her femininity yet I was exposed and she was dressed. I could feel the coolness and silkiness of her gorgeous legs. If I hadn’t just cum, I would have done it then. As it was, even fear and embarrassment could not keep me from getting an erection.

I felt her palm make contact with my buttocks. At first there was no sensation at all: just some pressure. But as her hand retreated, there was a sting and then the feeling of heat rising from the area. It actually felt good.

Then she delivered a second stroke on the other cheek and it felt good too.

However, as she delivered stroke after stroke, the effected accumulated. Each sting became a bite and the warmth became a burning. What was at first pleasurable became painful.

And then there was the humility of having this done to me: being spanked like a little boy, in front of the girls. Even though they were in trouble themselves, they were still dressed and seemed to delight in my demise. From the corner of my eye, I could see them standing there, pointing while softly giggling and whispering to each other with hands cupped to ears.

I don’t know how long Mrs. Stevens spanked me or how many spanks she gave me, but my rear end felt like I had just alighted from sitting on a bed of red-hot nails when she finished.

“Now stand up and face the girls and apologize to them for getting them in trouble,” she demanded.

I as I stood up, I was very aware of the precum dripping my erection. During the course of the spanking, I had become sexually excited. I was sure Mrs. Stevens felt it and perhaps that’s why she stopped when she did. I looked back to see if I had stained her shorts. Yes, there was a surprisingly big wet spot there in her crotch. But that wasn’t where my penis was resting.

I stood reluctantly before the girls, hands behind my back trying to rub the pain away from my ass. It was odd. Before the spanking, I was proud to show them my penis, now I seemed to be ashamed of it. Because of it, I was betrayed and I felt and embarrassment on behalf of my entire gender. Being humiliated by Mrs. Stevens had a turn-about effect. I went from being the big man in charge to being demoted to a contrite little boy. “I’m sorry girls.” was all I could say.

“Now collect your clothes and get dressed and go home. I don’t want you anywhere near my girls ever again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“This isn’t over. I’m going to have a talk with your parents about this. Maybe they can talk some sense into you.”

She escorted me to the front door. The girls followed. A she closed the door I could hear her say, “Now it time for me to deal with you girls.” I didn’t know if they were in for a spanking too, but I would never witness it.

I crossed the street and entered my house. Mom asked, “You’re home early. I thought you were going to play with the girls?”

“I’m not in the mood to play,” I replied.

“Are you OK? Do you feel sick?” she asked with typical mom concern.

“No, I’m just tired. I think I’ll just go upstairs.”

About an hour later, I heard the phone ring. From what I could gather from my mother’s end of the conversation, it was Mrs. Stevens.

She came up to my room shortly thereafter. “Mrs. Stevens just told me what you were doing with her daughters and her niece. We’re going to have a talk about this after dinner. I’m going to let your father unwind from work and have dinner before I tell him and then we’ll talk.”

I was rather subdued at dinner. After dinner mom told me to go up to my room. My dad asked if I was in trouble. Mom told him, “Yes he is. Why don’t we discuss this in the other room.”

That’s all I heard. I went upstairs and was not called down for the rest of the evening. So I went to bed. Mom stuck her head in later in the night. “I’m just checking that you are OK.”

Dad said nothing at breakfast. We didn’t even look at each other. He left for work and I went upstairs to get dressed.

Mom sat me down at the table. “Your father and I had a long talk last night. He was angry, ashamed and embarrassed all at the same time. He’ll get over it but it’s going to take him some time.

We think this ‘problem’ that you have has gotten out of control. We don’t know how to deal with it. I know you’ve been masturbating: I do the laundry. Most boys do, from what I understand. However, they do it in private; not in front of girls.

In fact, at your age, you shouldn’t be letting girls see you naked at all. This isn’t normal.

So your dad and I decided to seek professional help. We’re going to look for a psychiatrist for you. I don’t think this is something normal parenting is going to fix.

Otherwise, you’re a really nice boy. You’re kind and loving and you do well at school. Yes, I get on you to clean up your room and do your other chores, but you never get in trouble except for this incident and Mrs. Stevens tells me you’ve been doing this with the girls all summer.

Your father and I love you and we want to make sure you turn out alright. So don’t take going to a professional as a punishment. Some kids need a tutor to help them in an area where they are not doing well in school. Think of it like that: it’s a specific area in which you need help and your father and I are going to get it for you.”

-=o=-

I spent the rest of my day hanging around the house and helping my mom. In the afternoon, I got on my bike and rode solo. I found myself visiting our secret place. It was barren. The leaves had fallen and only the ghosts of the memories remained. It didn’t turn me on and it actually made me sad.

Dad came home from work and after a couple of clumsy exchanges with him, life seemed to get back to normal. A couple of days went by and not a word of what I did with the girls was ever discussed.

The following Monday, mom talked to me over breakfast, “I’ve found a doctor for you. One of the women in my women’s group, Mrs. Anderson, recommends Dr. Amundsen. She says she sent her daughter, Emily, there and is very pleased with the doctor. I made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.”

Tuesday afternoon came and I got dressed “presentably” and went to the doctor’s office with my mom. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to my surroundings and was rather bored with the waiting. Finally, the receptionist called us, “Mrs. Rice, the doctor will see you and Tommy now.”

I walked into the doctor’s office and she said “Hello, I’m Doctor Amy Amundsen.”

My mom took her hand and said, “I’m Patricia Rice and this is my son, Tommy.”

I took the doctor’s hand and shook it. It never occurred to me that the doctor could be a woman!

I sat there very uncomfortably while mom and the doctor chatted about my “condition.” Mom told her about how as a child I masturbated incessantly and that I seemed to have cleaned up my act for a while.

I guess I did a good job hiding my activities.

Then mom went into the incidents with Barbara and Peggy. The girls must have been keeping a diary and reported it all to their mom. They remembered details that even I had forgotten.

Towards the end of the session the doctor explained, “This isn’t an unusual case. Almost every boy masturbates as soon as he finds out he has a penis. I would consider it abnormal to come across a boy who doesn’t do it on a regular basis.

The particular problem here is the frequency of the masturbation and the circumstances under which he performs it.

At this point, I see no danger with him becoming a rapist or child abuser and it doesn’t mean that he’s gay or anything like that but his habits could interfere with his relationship with women in the future.

Thank you for all the details of his case, Mrs. Rice. In the future, I’ll be dealing with Tommy in private and then talk to the both of you after the session. Even though he’s a minor, I’d like to maintain the doctor-patient confidentiality.

I won’t tell you anything that Tommy won’t let me tell you and he will be allowed to have his secrets if I deem that you do not have a need to know. Mostly we’ll talk about generalities and not get into details.

I also ask you not to grill him on what we discuss. If he brings a topic up with you or Mr. Rice, that’s fine and you can discuss it, but don’t initiate the conversation.

Yes, it’s a good idea to keep him away from the girls. I think he’s sufficiently embarrassed about being caught that he won’t try anything with them again, but the temptation to masturbate to them as fantasy objects will be there and until we are sure he can control it, he should stay away.”

“That’s going to be difficult,” mom said. “They live right across the street.”

“There isn’t a lot you can do about it. Of course, he can be sociable and say hello to the girls when he sees them, but should refrain from actually playing with them or spending more time with them than is necessary.

I really can’t tell you more about the treatment at this point until I talk with Tommy and learn more about him and his addiction. But don’t worry, I’ve treated cases like this before.

You did the right thing coming here. I’ve even treated adult men who had similar issues. Early intervention is key. With as young as Tommy is, we can ‘reprogram’ his desires more easily. There are a lot of options. I’m sure we can get him the help he needs.”

-=o=-

On our next visit, the doctor talked to my mom briefly at the start of the session and then told her to go out to the waiting room.

I was expecting to lie down on a couch like I saw in the comics. There was a couch there for this purpose, but I wound up sitting in a very comfortable chair with a low coffee table between me and the doctor. She also sat down in a comfortable chair.

I was impressed by the setting. The low coffee table separated us and provided some “protective space” without it being a barrier. The situation was not as imposing as when I was still sitting in a chair with her behind her desk.

She laid down the ground rules, “I’m here to help you, Tommy. I’m not here to judge and I got assurance from your parents that they are not going to punish you or embarrass you based on what they might learn. In other words, you can be completely honest and nobody is going to make fun of you or punish you.

I meant what I said when I told your mom that I’m not going to tell her anything that you don’t want me to tell her. However, your parents love you and want to help you, so it’s best that you do let me tell them things I recommend.

I’m not going to tell them everything. There are some things they don’t need to know. I certainly won’t go into details.

The only exception is if you have some information that either you or someone else might be in danger or has been harmed. I have to report those issues.

Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dr. Amundsen.”

“You don’t have to call me Dr. Amundsen. That sounds so formal. You can call me Ms. Amundsen or even Amy.”

“I don’t think it would be proper for me to call an adult by her first name. Can I call you ‘Doc?’”

She laughed and said, “That will work. It’s the perfect balance of respect and informality. Doc it is.”

She immediately put me at ease by asking me very simple questions with answers that I didn’t even have to scratch my head to think about: where I went to school, what grade I was in, what my favorite subjects were, what my favorite sports team was, what I liked to eat …”

None of it had anything to do about my masturbation problem. She didn’t even ask if I liked girls. (I do!)

The next session was even more bizarre. She made a “date” with me. She told me, “I understand that you like to ride your bicycle.”

“I do.”

“How about instead of meeting here for the next session, we meet in the park down the block and we can go bike riding together. We can talk as we ride. This works out for me as well. I like to ride my bike and I need the exercise, so I can combine business with pleasure.”

From then on, we held a lot of sessions “on wheels.”

I was taken a bit back when seeing her. Instead of being in what I’d call a business suit, she was dressed casually in a loose top, pants and sneakers. Her hair was done up in a ponytail. I even swear that she took off her makeup.

She looked attractive to me even though she was a lot older, but she looked more like a normal person than a professional person. Once I got over the shock of seeing her this way, I felt even more comfortable with her.

What wasn’t comfortable was riding the bike, at least at first. The activity was so engrained in my mind with masturbating for the girls that I could not avoid thinking about it. Just riding a bike brought back these memories and now I was riding with another girl for the first time since being caught.

But riding was good therapy. I think she wanted me to confront at least one activity associated with “my condition” and put it back in its proper place. I think it worked. The physical activity of pushing the pedals burned off the tension caused by the imagined sexual activity in my mind. It relaxed me and as it limbered my muscles, it limbered my brain and mouth.

I found myself telling her everything, even dredging back to my earliest memories of masturbation. I told her things I thought I had forgotten. I even told her how I felt and what I thought about when I did it.

-=o=-

After a couple of months of sessions, Dr. Admundson called mom and me in for a big conference. The doc had been keeping mom up to date as we were going along, but these updates were limited to “We’re making good progress” or “Tommy is responding well.”

This time the whole session was devoted to discussing my progress. True to her word, the doc went over with me what she would be telling my mom. I wished that she didn’t have to tell my mom all those things, but she convinced me that it was the best thing to do.

The doc is a nice woman, but I would really like to spend my time doing other things. If having her reveal our secrets to mom gets me out of these sessions, then it would be worth it.

“Tommy is a great boy. He’s been open and honest with me and that has allowed us to make great progress.

One very positive aspect of the events is that everything was voluntary. Neither the girls involved nor your son were coerced in any way. Everyone agreed to participate. This is a good thing, not only for your son, but also for the girls.

I’m not concerned about his masturbation. All boys do that.”

This was of some comfort to me, knowing that I wasn’t the only boy who had this “problem.”

“The act itself is normal. However, the frequency of his masturbation indicates that he’s addicted to the practice. Like other addictions, there really isn’t a cure, but they can be managed and eventually brought under his control.

There is also the matter of his preference of masturbating in the presence of girls and even soliciting their participation. This isn’t normal activity for boys who normally are overly modest about their bodies.

Tommy has a classic case of ‘penis focus syndrome’ or PFS. PFS is an overly strong attachment that a boy or man has for his penis. In Tommy’s case, he manifests it through exhibitionism.”

At this point mom interrupted the doc, “What’s PFS?”

The doctor went on, “PFS is a common affliction in young boys. To put it in purely Freudian terms, it’s sort of the opposite of penis envy in girls. Once boys discover the difference between the sexes and that they have something girls don’t, they become proud of the anatomical difference and build a good part of their personality around it.

They consider ownership of a penis to confer entitlement.

This kind of condition also happens with other things in life. It’s the ‘I have something you don’t have, so that makes me better than you’ syndrome. For some people owning an expensive home or car that others can’t afford establishes their sense of self-worth, for others having white skin gives them a feeling of privilege and leads to racism. Others take pride in membership in certain ‘elite’ organizations like churches and this, too leads to a kind of bigotry.

There’s even intellectual snobbery. I once even had a ‘mental bully’ as a patient whose membership in MENSA was his claim to fame. ‘I have a bigger brain than you do and I like making other people look stupid.’

Possession or membership is a very shaky foundation on which to build one’s ego.

In the case of PFS it leads to a type of sexism. Most boys grow out of it or at least push it to the background as they grow older and gain confidence in themselves through other means.

Men who still suffer from the condition exhibit it in a number of ways, but it all comes down to drawing attention to their penises. One of the most common, and relatively harmless if done among consenting people is CFNM or ‘clothed female, naked male.’

Clothing is a very basic thing. It protects us from the elements, but it also protects us from view of other people. To be naked is to be vulnerable. To be naked while others are clothed creates a power imbalance. The clothed people, in this case the girls, are more powerful than the naked people, in this case your son.

CFNM is a lot more popular than most people realize. Many of my patients, male and female enjoy it. Like everything else, done in moderation, it’s harmless and maybe even healthy.

PFS can also be manifested in SPH or small penis humiliation, forced orgasm, CBT or cock and ball torture or male chastity. Not all attention has to be positive.”

“Is Tommy going to be OK?”

“I don’t see a lot of cause to worry. I think we’ve gotten on his case early enough to turn him around. He’s not on the road to destructive behavior. If we did not intervene, at worst, he might eventually be arrested for indecent exposure. That’s not to make light of exhibitionism, but it is a much less serious crime than rape which is the extreme case of PFS.

I think you did the right thing bringing Tommy to me when you did. We still have time for him to learn how to manage his urges. He will always have them, but we can channel them into socially-acceptable expression.

In the long run, Tommy will need to develop a better self-image; one not based on his attachment to his penis and one based on his accomplishments academically, in sports, though social interaction with others or maybe even through a hobby.

In the short term, he will need help to manage his masturbation frequency and learn to detach himself from the control that his penis has over him.”

“What kind of help?”

“I sometimes recommend the drug Puericil, but in this case, I think it would be counter-productive. Puericil is an effective anti-masturbation drug and a lot of doctors prescribe it. I even prescribe it for some of my adolescent male patients with more severe masturbation issues.

One of the side effects is that it causes boys to be submissive to girls and lowers their inhibitions about modesty. Being submissive to female rule is part of the treatment I recommend for Tommy, but I think we need to build up his modesty, not interfere with its development.

Besides, I believe my patients make better progress when they do it on their own without the use of medication. There is always the danger of replacing one addiction with another.

There is also a support group I recommend. It’s sort of like Alcoholics Anonymous only it’s for men and boys whose addiction is masturbation. It’s divided into two groups: one for adult men and another for adolescent boys.

Tommy is going to need your encouragement and support in going to these meetings but Tommy is going to need more than your and your husband’s support.”

“What do you mean?”

“The group requires that the boy have a sponsor: a girl close to his age. Someone the boy can trust. Do you know of anyone like that?”

“There’s my sister’s daughter, Karen. She’s almost 11 years old. Will she be OK?”

“That depends. I’d like to meet with the sponsor to see if she is fit for the duties we’ll be asking her to do.”

“What does it involve?”

“Mostly she’ll be there for moral support and to encourage him in his recovery.

She’ll get to see Tommy naked, and she will be in control of his masturbation. This concept works with the submission therapy I’m recommending for Tommy.

Submission therapy takes the emphasis off his control over his penis by placing it in the hands of a girl. It counteracts PFS. Instead of seeing his penis as something that grants privilege over girls, he’ll see it as a liability that causes him to submit to girls.”

“Wow!” was all mom could say. “I’ll have to talk to my sister about this.”

“We’ll both have to have a talk with her and Karen, too.

If she’s like most girls, Karen would be an ideal choice. First of all, she’s a relative, but not too close a relative like a sister. Secondly, she’s probably already comfortable with being with Tommy.

I asked Tommy about the girls he exposed himself to and her name didn’t come up. I also asked him about girls he wanted to expose himself to. Aside from a couple of girls in his class, he didn’t mention any other names and certainly not Karen. So she’s not a part of the problem and could very well be a part of the solution.

Finally, she’s younger than him. Her age works benefits because Tommy will know that the reason she’s in charge isn’t because she is older than him. She’s in charge because, she’s a girl and he’s a boy.”

“But she’s only 10 and she’s his cousin. Isn’t that incest?”

“Girls mature more rapidly than boys. The several year gap between her and Tommy means that she probably has an emotional maturity on par with his even if she’s still not yet as physically mature as he is.

I will do an assessment when I talk to her if you agree to the program. I’ve coached a number of young girls in this program. Most of them take the responsibility seriously. It is good for the girl’s development as well. When it is presented to them that what they are doing is in the best interest of the boy, they step forward and act responsibly.

Secondly, it’s not incest. There’s no sex involved, just male nudity and female control of his masturbation.”

“My niece isn’t going to have to get naked, will she?”

“Not at all. In fact, she always has to remained fully-clothed for all of Tommy’s treatments.”

“I’ll have to talk to my sister about this.”

“Of course! Everyone will have to agree. This is a family project. Karen is going to need her mom’s support and your support as well. Please talk to her about this and have her call and make an appointment when all of us can get together.”

“Well, OK,” mom ended lamely.

-=o=-

There were a lot of telephone conversations between my mom and Aunt Carol. Even my cousin was included. My mom, aunt and cousin visited the doctor for the appointment. Everyone seemed to know what was going on when the four of us met with Dr. Admundson two weeks later.

The doctor started off with, “Thank you Ms. Shelton and thank you, Karen, for agreeing to be part of Tommy’s therapy.

As I explained in the previous session with you, this is a new and somewhat controversial method of treatment involving male nudity and controlled masturbation. It’s very effective at redirecting a boy’s sexual identity from his penis to his whole person and redirecting it from inward, self-pleasure outward towards responsibilities towards others.”

The doc warned me that she would be discussing my masturbation issue with my aunt and cousin, but it was still difficult to listen to her words in front of the all-female audience. Karen, in particular, seemed to be hanging on her every word.

Turning to my cousin, she said, “Karen, you’re an important part in Tommy’s treatment. I’m glad we had the opportunity to talk last week. You’ve convinced me that you are mature enough to be in charge and that you’ve had enough education and experience with boys to have the confidence to do the job.

Do you have any questions on the pamphlets and video I gave you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You also understand that except for your mother, your aunt and myself that you keep this activity a secret. It will be embarrassing enough for your cousin to get naked and masturbate for you. Do not do it when your friends are around and you will not share any of this information with them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The only exception is in the group therapy sessions I told you about. Those are supervised events and the girls and boys are there to support each other. Those sessions are anonymous and will remain anonymous.”

Turning to me, she said, “Tommy, do you remember what I told you about having to get naked and submit to Karen as part of your therapy?”

I swallowed and I nodded.

“Well, it’s time to get started. We’ll do it here in the office for the first time. It’s a bit ‘clinical’ but that works to our advantage. You’ll have to get used to undressing for her at home or at her house.

You’re among friends here. Your mom and your aunt support this program and they support you. When you think about it, they’ve put you in diapers, so there is nothing new there.

Karen has already given me evidence that she knows what boys look like and will be comfortable with your nudity.

So please stand and take off your clothes. If you wish, you can go over and face the corner while you do it since this is your first time, but you’re going to have to turn around when you are done.”

Rationally, I knew that this was nothing new for me. I’ve exposed myself to girls before and even gotten totally naked for Barbara, Peggy and Jenny, but this was an entirely different circumstance. In those cases, I was in control. I chose the girls and I chose to get naked for them.

This time, this strange woman told me to do it, and I had to obey. In the back of my mind was the knowledge that my younger girl cousin would be telling to do it in the future and I’d have to obey her too. That was a harder pill to swallow. The doc, at least, was an adult and a professional. Karen had no such credentials. She was even younger than me. She was put in charge solely because she was a girl.

I took the doctor’s advice and walked to the corner and got undressed. Every piece of clothing fought me. My hands were trembling too much to undo the buttons on my shirt easily and I even had trouble undoing my belt.

As I shed each piece of clothing, I could feel the coolness of the room embrace me. I felt its icy fingers walk down my back as I bent over and lowered my underwear and stepped out of them. I thought I heard a snicker from Karen as I could envision the view she must have gotten of me in this position.

I stood there and closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Doc said, “You can turn around, Tommy.”

I turned slowly. I had the urge to cover my private parts with my hands but I resisted it. I surrendered to the inevitable: being naked, total exposed and vulnerable to a room of women and a girl.

“Look at us,” the doctor said firmly. I felt like there were 10 pound weights attached to my eyelids. It was difficult to open them. When I did, I could see the adult women looking at me. Karen was looking at my penis. I can’t blame her; she would soon be in charge of it.

I started to get erected. There was a certain thrill being exposed to Karen. She was about the same age as Barbara and like Barbara, she was also a pretty girl: pretty even for a cousin.

However, having the adult women there dampened my excitement. Whereas Karen seemed to be accepting me with girlish enthusiasm, the women seemed to be judging me.

“Walk around for a while and get yourself comfortable,” Dr. Admundson suggested. She initiated conversation with my mom and my aunt about shopping and even Karen joined in. I felt some relief not being the center of attention, but it was obvious that all eyes were on me.

After a while, doc asked me, “Are you more comfortable now?”

“I guess so.”

“Are you ready to masturbate as we discussed?”

I nodded.

“And have you abstained all week like I asked you to?”

I nodded again.

“OK, what position would you like to do it in: standing, sitting, kneeling or lying down?”

“Standing,” I said. I was used to standing. It was the position I took with the Stevens’ girls behind the bushes.

“Good, we can do it at my desk. I have a disposable plastic cover we can put over it. From what you told me, you won’t need any help.”

“Help?” my mom asked.

“Tommy is pretty much into pure masturbation. A lot of men need a fantasy to fixate on. Some look at pornography when they do it; others involve a fetish object. Tommy just needs to look at girls: normal girls, even fully-clothed girls in normal situations. This is a very healthy viewpoint for a boy of his age.”

Turning to me, she said, “Tommy, stand behind the desk. Karen, you stand in front of the desk and watch. Tommy, I want you to look at Karen when you do it. Look at her face. Remember, you are not doing this for you; you are doing it for her.”

The doctor addressed Karen, “I know where you’ll be looking, and that’s OK. However, after a while you’ll find that looking at a boy’s face when he does it or you do it to him is just as much fun. Make him look you in the eye when he does it. It will enforce the reason he is doing it. He’s doing it for you and not for his pleasure. You are in charge.”

I looked at my cousin as she stood there, a hair band on her head, a simple, sleeveless white blouse, above-the-knee plaid pleated skirt, knee socks and Mary Janes. She looked every bit an innocent young schoolgirl, but her face denied her innocence.

The doctor mentioned that she had “experience” with boys. I wondered what kind of experience.

I closed my eyes and grabbed my penis. The doc was on me with a sharp rebuke, “Open your eyes. Look at her!”

And with that command, I started to jerk off. In the sexually-charged atmosphere of the room, my penis seemed more sensitive than it had before. I could feel myself peaking within the first couple of strokes. I tried to slacken my pace, but I couldn’t I was being driven by a force greater than my will. The doctor was right; this was an addiction, and I was powerlessly held in its grasp.

I tried to block out the rest of the room and concentrate on my cousin’s face. Her eyes were shining and there was just the hint of a smile as she first licked and then bit her lower lip. She was enjoying the show and I wondered briefly what was going through her mind.

Wonder soon gave way to animal lust as my orgasm approached. At first it came slowly like a lioness stalking her prey, coming closer with smooth steady steps. And like the lioness, my body tensed with apprehension and readied for the leap. At the critical moment, it burst into a sprint, bounding with speed and energy.

The room became a blur and I lost focus on my cousin’s face as I shot my semen. For the duration of my orgasm, the lights seemed to dim with every shot.

I was spent and my arms collapsed at my side. I looked down at the trail of cum extended across the desk, pointing at Karen. Her smile was now full and her eyes scanning the evidence of the shameful display that I just performed for her. She knew and I knew that this was my formal surrender to her. She now owned me.

The doctor handed me some tissues to clean up and told me to toss them onto the plastic sheet that she rolled up and disposed of it in a trash can.

“You did well; the both of you. Thank you Tommy, that took a lot of courage to do, but it’s an important step in your recovery. I know it was humiliating, but that’s part of what makes it work. You need to make the distinction between thinking of yourself and thinking of others and you will learn how to balance the two.

I think I’ve seen enough here.

Tommy, you can get dressed.

Ms. Rice, Ms. Shelton, I think I can trust you to take the next step with Tommy’s therapy. First, he’ll have to let Karen masturbate him under your supervision. Once you are satisfied with that arrangement, then she should be able to manage the activity on her own. Call me if you have any questions.

Then you should get him fitted for the device; preferably this week.”

-=o=-

Dr. Admundson told me about the device. I wasn’t quite sure what it would look like or how it would work, but all I knew is that it would prevent me from masturbating and I would have to sit down to pee. It could be locked up and my mom and my cousin would have the keys.

I didn’t like the idea, but the doctor convinced me that if Karen were to be in control of my masturbation, that she be completely in control of it. The device would keep me from cheating and I had to admit that I didn’t have the willpower not to cheat. It was all I could do to abstain for a couple of days for my visit to the doctor’s office.

The following Wednesday, mom invited my aunt and cousin over for dinner. We ate early and about 7 PM a woman rang our doorbell. It was not unexpected. Mom told me she had set up the appointment.

By this point, I was too far into the program to back out. It was having some effect. Thoughts of my penis and playing with it were not as persistent as they were only weeks ago. I was able to concentrate on my studies at school and I re-arranged my room so my desk no longer faced the window and the girls across the street.

Mom answered the door and let her in. “You must be Tracy, the woman Dr. Admundson told me about,” she said, leading her into the room. “This is my sister, Carol and this is her daughter, Karen; she’ll be the one holding one of the keys; and of course, this is Tommy.”

There was a moment of awkward silence until mom said, “How do we do this? When do we get started?”

“We can do it right here if you want,” Tracy replied.

Mom and my aunt nodded. Karen just sat there smiling.

“Tommy, please get undressed and then go stand in front of the fireplace facing us. I need to show your mom, aunt and Karen how to do this.”

I looked at my mom. She looked a Karen who, so prompted said, “You heard the lady. Get undressed!” in a tone firmer than I ever heard her use before.

It was so compelling that all I could answer was, “Yes, ma’am.”

As I was undressing, Tracy took the device out of her bag. It was still in the box. It read 6860MH (Purple). She opened the box and passed it around.

“As you can see, it’s made of silicone rubber. There are other versions made of metal, leather or plastic. This model is a good combination of durability and comfort; that’s why I recommend it for men and boys who don’t know what they want. Amy, Dr. Admundson that is, thinks it’s a good choice for prolonged use for first-time users.”

Tracy then demonstrated how it came apart and went back together and had my mom, aunt and Karen show her that they knew how to do it. I was interested too and crept forward to take a look. At first it looked complex like a three-dimensional puzzle, but I soon came to marvel at it for its elegant design of mechanical engineering.

I think that in an emergency, I could probably figure out a way to cut the device apart and get out, but it would be very obvious if I did that.

“Well, Tommy, since you are here. It’s time to demonstrate how to put the chastity cage on.”

Karen giggled at the words, “chastity cage.” My heart sank in hearing the same words.

Tracy put the pieces together over my cock and balls and secured it with the lock. It felt funny hanging there. It was just a little tight and I could feel its weight, but it was not uncomfortable. I didn’t know if I’d get used to it or if I’d be aware of it every waking moment.

Tracy took it off and let my mom and aunt and Karen put it on me to make sure they knew how to do it properly. It was demeaning; I felt more like a prop than a person. I happened to be the only one in the room with a penis to demonstrate this product on.

Karen closed the device for the last time. She kept the key on her charm bracelet. I doubt the other girls in her class would know its true significance. But I knew. Every time I saw her, it was on display as a symbol of her dominance over me. I was now locked up until she decided to release me. My masturbation was now completely under her control. She owned me.

Tracy filled us in on the proper use and care of the device and the necessity of frequent penis inspections, particularly in the early going and how I could wash in the shower while wearing it and how I’d have to sit down to pee and blot the end of my penis when I was done.

I was a caged boy and my 10-year-old female cousin was my keyholder.

-=o=-

And this is how I was presented to the group: naked with chastity device in place. There was some comfort that the other boys in the room were similarly undressed.

Aside from us naked males, the room was filled with our sponsors and the female adult moderator. The adults who brought us would come back later to pick us up.

After each boy came up and confessed his “sins” in front of the group, we all assembled and spoke our pledge:

I admit that as a male, I am powerless against my sexual desires. That my life has become an unmanageable enslavement to my base male desires.

I came to believe in a power greater than myself that can restore me to sanity and that this power is feminine.

I decided to turn my will and my life over to the care of my female guardian.

I took a searching and fearless moral inventory of my masculine habits.

I admitted to my female guardian and myself the exact nature of my wrongs.

I am entirely ready to have my female guardian help me remove all the defects of my male character.

I humbly ask her to forgive me, on the part of her gender, the shortcomings of my gender.

I made a list of all female persons I had harmed, and am willing to make amends to all of them.

I made direct amends to these women and girls wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or other female persons.

I continue to take a personal inventory of my male habits and when I am wrong promptly admit it.

I seek to improve my communion with my female guardian, to gain knowledge of her will for me and the power to carry out her will.

I had an awakening as the result of these steps. I will try to carry this message to males everywhere, and to practice these principles in all my affairs.

After the pledge, we were broken into small groups of two or three couples for discussions on our progress. At the designated time, the girls unlocked their boys and masturbated them to conclude the session. Each of us boys relished the release even under such humiliating circumstances.

The group met twice a month which is a long time for a teenaged boy to go without cumming. Some of the girls held their boys to this schedule. Karen was a lot more liberal and masturbated me usually only once between sessions. By this time, I was used to the circumstances. I accepted Karen’s authority over me and actually looked forward to being with her even when she wasn’t relieving me.

With Dr. Admundson’s help I eventually learned self-control and beat my addiction. I was also weaned from Karen’s control. For my 18^th birthday my mom and Karen gave me a present: their keys.

In keeping with my pledge, I went across the street to the Stevens’. I apologized to Mrs. Stevens and her two daughters who were, by now, quite attractive teenagers. I don’t know if they forgave me and I certainly don’t blame them for not trusting me, but it is the best I can do. I hope it at least relieves some of their concerns.

I wore the device though college and kept the keys locked up in a box at the bank. It was impossible for me to masturbate spontaneously. It became a planned event. That gave me time to reflect on whether I really wanted to do it and let discipline and maturity rule.

I’m now married, and my wife appreciates how well I please her sexually in bed and with more than just my penis. She is also appreciative of how well I please her out of the bedroom. I still masturbate, but only on rare occasions under her direction when she’s in the mood to watch me do it.

(End of File)