A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 62
Freaky Friday (8) – Sammantha Gets Punished

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With my right hand, I slid down one side of his underpants and then the other … and what do you know?  Out popped the jack-in-the-box.

I asked, “Hey, Sam, would you like me to get a marker and draw the Peepee the clown face back on?”

“NO, you stupid bitch!!  Let me go!”

With so much control now, I decided to relax for a few minutes and play with my childhood body.  There was no need to rush into Sammantha’s punishment.  I used my index finger to stroke this super cute penis over and over from base to tip.  Each time, it bobbed up and down a little, being quite sensitive to the touch. An eleven-year-old’s boyhood is a thing of beauty at just four inches … nothing like the ugly intimidating schlong of a Gladstone Point DuJour.

But it was too soon to jack him off.

I remember when I was eleven and how much I liked to play with my penis.  But I was always too shy and embarrassed to let anyone see it.  For me, it was a real boy toy.  I used to slap it around a lot because I didn’t know how to masturbate yet.  I never had an older brother to teach me.  Sometimes my penis tickled when I hung onto a stair railing.  Maybe I was doing a coregasm then and didn’t know it.  The first time I had semen at thirteen, I was really scared.  I thought maybe it was puss caused by some kind of disease.  It was a lot smaller than the ‘Blob’.

I used to snip off my first pubic hairs because I thought they looked ugly.  So now, when I look at Sam’s smooth barren pubis, it appears simple and pleasing.  I stopped stroking his shaft so that I could run my fingers across that blank little canvas … a virgin landscape without a hint of the jungle to come.

“Stop it!” the boy yelled.

I could sense his struggles lessening.  With my fingernail, I lightly flicked his nipples and watched him squirm and giggle.

“I said stop it!!”

Yes, I remember being very ticklish as a child, so I ran the same fingernail several times across the length and width of his belly.  I knew he wouldn’t be able to contain his laughter.

And he cried out, “AAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh! … No more!  No more!  Please!”

Well at least he said please that time.  Tickle torture is so fun, but I remember having other sensitive areas, too.  I moved Sam’s underpants a few more inches down and began stroking his perineum, the area between his scrotum and his anus.

Sam stopped struggling altogether.  I think he was enjoying this movement of my fingernail.  It was kind of funny that his head and arms were still tangled up in his shirt, but not moving now.  I worked my fingernail down a bit further and then up into his little hole.  That sure got his attention.

“AAAAhhhhh!  Stop it! Stop it!”

I worked my finger up pretty high and then twirled it in circles.  He was helpless now.

“UUhhhhhhh … no more, no more, “he whined.  “Stoppppppp!.”

Then I found his magic prostate.  I didn’t want to press too hard, but it was weird that I never found it when I was in my male body.  Men just hate going to a proctologist and hearing the snap of his elastic glove.

An erection is definitely the perfect boy toy.  Another fun thing to do with it is to bend it downward (in the direction of the feet) till it’s flat, and then let go of it like a catapult.  It makes quite an audible ‘smacking’ sound when it springs back against his tummy … kind of like a ‘boing’.  So let’s try that for a while.

“Boing, boing, boing, boing.”

The little boy yelled out, “Sopt it!!  Leave me alone!!” while thrashing his arms inside his shirt to no avail.

I guess I was a bad person for teasing.  “You know Sammantha, isn’t it weird how you’re the one who has the penis, and yet I’m the one who’s having all the fun?”  For added emphasis, I actually said the word ‘boing’ each time I released his penis.

“Boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing.”

“STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!”  The boy was obviously getting very frustrated.

“Sam, I’m just teaching you how to play with your new penis, since it doesn’t come with an instruction manual.”

To finish up my playing with the body I used to have as a boy, which, by the way, I happen to love very much, I began to massage his balls … very gently and evenly, back and forth.

“ummmmmmmmmm,” the boy moaned softly.

I told him, “Sam, I’m sorry I kicked you.  It’s going to hurt for awhile but your balls will feel better in a few days.  I promise.”

“ummmmmmmmmm.”

The boy seemed to settle down now, so I continued to massage him for several more minutes.

But it was time to move on to the business at hand.  I let go of the top tangle of Sam’s shirt and he started working to get the shirt off his head.  While he did that, I pulled his jeans and his underpants down to his ankles in one motion.

The boy sat up and seemed surprised to discover he was now nude except for the crumpled clothing around his ankles and shoes ... and his ear stud.  His boner still stood cute, tall, and proud, as much as four inches would allow.

I stood up and grabbed a chunk of his pants, between his ankles, and dragged his body backward a foot, toward the center of the bed.  Then I put his right ankle over his left ankle and turned both of them.

“Owww!  What are you doing?”

The boy had no choice.  In order to prevent two twisted ankles, he had to flip over from his back and onto his stomach.  Then I grabbed the jeans again and lifted his legs high as I sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Then I dropped his legs onto my lap, but I had to drag his body just a little further until his erect penis was nestled between my thighs … while his hands draped over my thighs and nearly touched the floor … and his bare buttocks protruded nicely upward.

“Wait!  What are you doing?!” the boy cried out.

I held Sam down with my left hand on his back.  “Little man, I am going to tenderize your gluteus maximus.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb, Sammantha.  You know what a gluteus maximus is.  And now that you’re a little boy, you can refer to this as a spanking.”

“Wait!!  You said that kicking me in the nuts would be my punishment!”

“Nice try.”

“Damn it, Derrek!  No matter how hard the swats … No matter how many … I will NEVER cry for you!”

“OWWWWW!!!”  What the hell?”

I delivered punishment with about an equal ‘swat factor’ that Sammantha used on me way back at the Goodwill store.

“OWWWWW!!!  Wait!  Something’s wrong!”

I paused the swats.  “Okay, Sam.  I’ll play along.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Well, you see, if you were hitting like that on my female body, I would barely feel it because I have such a high tolerance for pain.  But your boy body must have really sensitive nerve endings and those swats are ridiculously painful.  You’re hitting me too hard.  Can we stop at two?”

“OWWWWW!!!”

“The real question, Sam … is should we stop at three?”

The boy pleaded for mercy.  His voice crackled and sputtered.  “Okay, Mom, I’m telling you, that was white hot searing pain.  My skin is burning and it keeps burning.  You don’t know your own strength.  You’re going to kill me.  Is my butt red by now?  Is it bleeding?  Do you want me to cry for you?  Okay, wah wah, that’s the best I can do.  You’ll be calling 911 if there’s another one.”

I felt that Sammantha made a good case.  “Alright, Sam … We’ll stop at three.  It’s now time for you to leave your little world of rainbows and unicorns where an eleven year old boy thinks he can beat up the strongest woman in the world.”

I started untying his tennis shoes and removing his socks as he continued to whimper.  I wouldn’t really call it crying … He was trying to hold it back.  Then off came his jeans and tighty whities, so the only thing the bare boy had on now was his ear stud … and for health reasons, I wasn’t going to remove that.

I enjoyed having the strength to flip his soft, pretty body any which way I wanted. His smooth, bare skin had a nice feel to it, a feeling of youth … and having total control over another person can be intoxicating.

I lifted Sam up by his armpits and placed him in the usual position, face to face on my lap, with his legs spread apart.  But I also made sure he was sitting on his hands so he couldn’t use them.  Sammantha had now ‘assumed the position’ as I was required to do so many times with her.

I could talk to the boy quietly now.  “Sam, let me grab a tissue from your nightstand.  You’ve got one little tear under this eye, and another little tear under the other.  It’s no big deal if you cry.  You’re right.  Those were some pretty nasty spanks.”

Then I used the side of my index finger to gently stroke his ‘upright tool’ from the base to the tip … where it bobbed a little bit each time I made contact with the coronal ridge under the helmet.

“Will you please stop touching my penis?” the boy complained.

I retorted, “No, Sam.  I’ve decided to take control of it.  “I’ll decide when your penis needs to be touched, when it needs to be washed, and when it needs to ejaculate.”

He was a bit hesitant to ask, “What do you mean?”

As I lectured Sam, I used my index finger to repeatedly tap down hard on the tip of his penis.  This was clearly an insulting way to violate a little boy’s personal space.  I likened it to when he was poking me in my breast a few minutes ago.

I explained, “Well, Sam, you may think you’ve gotten what you want, but you have to keep in mind that boys have no control over their own penis.  You can’t control when you get a boner, just like now.  And if I tell you that you have to ejaculate, you can’t tell me no, because I’m the one who really controls your penis.

He muttered, “I don’t understand.”

“Let’s try this exercise now, Sam.  You try to not ejaculate, and we’ll see who’s really in charge of your boy toy.  I’m going to make a little circle with my thumb and index finger, like making the “OK” sign.  And now I’m going to lightly buffet the circle, up and down against your coronal ridge.  That’s the sensitive ridge at the bottom of your ‘helmet’.”

“Okay, stop.”

“There, I stopped.  Sam, you must be feeling it since your body is twitching on each ‘up’ stroke.  Let’s try again.”

The boy gritted his teeth and looked away, but his body continued to twitch.

“Stop it!”

“There, I stopped.  You can relax now.  We’ll wait about 15 seconds before we continue.”

As you see, Sammantha, when I start rubbing your coronal ridge, there’s no way for you to stop the super-sensitive nerve stimulation from building up waves of pleasure in your groin.

“Please stop.”

“Your abdominal muscles begin to contract against your prostate, similar to what males do when they perform a coregasm.”

“Please stop, mom,” the boy whimpered.

Once I got it going again, Sam’s body was trying to twist and contort itself away from my hand … but without success.

“Okay, your penis is throbbing now, so we’ll stop and let it go back down.”

“Why are you teasing me?!” he asked loudly.

“Sam, I am demonstrating to you just exactly who is in charge of your newfound boyhood.  Just because you have a penis, it doesn’t make you superior to people with vaginas … and it looks like you’re getting ready to lose this challenge.  Eventually, your body reaches a point of no return, where for one to two seconds, you know that ejaculation is coming and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.   Do we need to worry about you putting a blob on the ceiling?”

“Let me go!” he cried out.

“Not yet, Sam,” I replied.  Then I expanded the caresses to include the entire length of his shaft.  In a few seconds, the boy reached his point of no return, and he arched his back.

And he could not contain a boyish high-pitched vocal reaction …  “Ohhh, Ohhh, Ohhh, Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” … while his penis throbbed and expelled some air.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his head against my chest.  His balls hurt bad, his butt hurt bad, and his male sex organ was exhausted.  For several minutes, I just put my arms around his back and hugged him.