Errands

Disclaimer: This is a story of fantasy and is not only not intended to condone or approve of the behaviors contained herein, there is absolutely nothing about treating children as sexual objects that the author approves of, desires, or would dream of doing to an actual child. This work is written in the context of age based role play.

If you cannot understand this, have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality, or are in any way confused about what is appropriate and legal sexual expression, stop reading now.

Lastly, I am not a pedophile, don't approve of sexually assaulting children, and only use these themes in my writing because I empathize and identify with the victims of these stories; not the perpetrators. Some of us like to be embarrassed, ashamed, humiliated, spanked, and to be nervous, anxious, and afraid. Weird, right? To read more about why these stories were written, please see the "What This Blog is and is NOT -- READ THIS FIRST" post.

All that said, this story is about a dominant mommy and her little. The mommy character was sexually abused as a child and she relates a few stories as if she maybe enjoyed the experiences. In real life, child sexual assault victims have related or surrogate psychological damage manifesting in eating disorders, promiscuity, and others. Usually there is a control dynamic to their mental health as they struggle with being powerless at the time of their abuse. They also fight with the reality of being a victim who may also have been manipulated into complicity.

At any rate, I tried to capture this tension in the mommy character. It is really dark.

Errand days are the best. To keep me on my best behavior, she makes sure my bottom is on fire all day long.

The day really started last night when I slept in the guest room. This is how we go from being a married couple to being mommy and her little one. Also, I don't usually sleep very well because I am excited, nervous, afraid, and obviously aroused. Mommy won't get a good night's sleep if I keep poking her with my little doo-dad.

Days when I sleep in the guest room are also the only times I sleep in my special pajamas. They are just cheap, thin, and show any stains or dribbles. Also, my bottom feels so good through the paper thin fabric. I've been spanked wearing these pajamas and would testify before a grand jury to how little protection they provide. The pants have that slit with a button for keeping parts hidden. The button is missing on my pair. When I'm not tenting out the front, I will just be poking out.

After a night being erect and not sleeping, there will be dark wet spots all over the gray material. It is embarrassing to show how horny and needy my little penis is especially when what is mostly going to happen on this warm fall day is going to involve my bottom. As I do my morning things, I can't keep my hands from rubbing my pale cheeks through the thin material. It feels so vulnerable. Especially up and down my cleft, there is less hard muscle, more soft skin, and so many more nerves.

While she is getting ready, I warm up my bottom. It is embarrassing to have to give myself a spanking. Maybe that is the point. It also means she can spank me hard, fast and with the little hairbrush paddle right from the start. If I do a good job warming my bottom up, it won't be too bad.

After my shower, I will go to the spare bathroom with my light paddle ball paddle and some wood spoons, stand naked with my bottom towards the mirror, and try to spank my own bottom until it is pink and stinging. The best I will be able to do pales in comparison to what even just the first spank from her hard wood hairbrush paddle. The sting is almost pleasant in comparison.

Of course, my hard little penis craves attention. He throbs in approval as my bottom warms up as I try to spank myself.

I'm not a big man in any respect. Though not fat, I'm not muscular either. My body could be that of a preadolescent boy or girl though just a little larger. My genitals when in repose, are those of a child: delicate testicles in a pale purse of crinkly skin. My penis a porcelain white when flaccid, only becoming pink when erect. Just before I ejaculate, the head will sometimes take a subtle blue tint. He may be the picture of adult male sexual virility in those moment of ultimate arousal, but even at his full glory, he remains non-threatening in length in girth.

Like all men not endowed with the gift of a prodigious phallus, I compensate for my shortcoming with technique and meeting her needs in other ways. She likes being my surrogate mommy, dominating me, punishing me, controlling me, rewarding me, and loving me. I've tried to complete the picture be keeping my face and body free of hair.

This little boy stares back at me over his shoulder as a wood spoon snaps down on his pink bottom. The spanks sting only enough to make me occasionally hiss between my teeth. This is an important part of what will happen today. A well warmed up bottom will be able to take today's punishment so much better. It will still sting, burn, and hurt. I will still cry during each spanking at least a little bit. But I won't bruise. The spanks will remain fire hot and sting like angry hornets.

"Baby, let's get going," I hear her call from our bedroom. This signals my preparation time is over. I've been anticipating our errand day for days. Last night was nearly sleepless. My penis has been hard so much, my stomach aches sometimes. Finally, she will give me my first real spanking of the day and I will cry my first tears of the day. I surprise myself with an audible gulp.

Gathering up my self-spanking implements, I force my legs to move through quick sand toward the bedroom. As I round the corner, I see the clothes she has picked out for her little boy laying on the bed: jeans, a pain t-shirt, socks, and white panties with a pattern of lilac flowers. This is a new thing as of late: on spanking days, she makes me wear little girl panties when I'm not naked. She will dress me like a little girl in skirts, dress, nighties, and even lingerie. To the side of my errand clothing is a diaper clearly intended for a baby girl. I know how the diaper will be used and it makes me shiver in eager anticipation. On her bedside table is the ginger infused lube and the prostate stimulating vibrating butt plug. 

She is putting a skirt and crop top into a discrete bag. She will use my spanking spoons later so I place them carefully on her bedside table. Then I stop and wait. What will happen next has me short of breath, fidgeting, and almost crying already. Laying on the panties is the hairbrush paddle. Between when she picks it up and when she puts it into the bag with my skirt and top, I will be quickly spanked to tears.

"It looks like you did a pretty good job warming up your bottom. Hope it helps," she says with an evil smile. "We better get started or the stores will be so busy," she   says as she reaches for my most feared spanking implement.

Mommy moves around me quickly to my left then places her left hand gently but firmly on my bare hairless tummy just at the base of my straining erection. In fact, the bottom of her palm is anchored against my firmness. This may be the only direct attention to my sex organ she will make until much later. It is also a decided departure from the archetype spanking experience of my youth.

My real mommy didn't spank me many times and certainly not severely. Her process was almost gentle and ritualistic. I would be told earlier in the day that I would be spanked before bedtime. Then, when she put me to bed, she would sit on the edge of my bed, pull down my flannel pajama bottom, gently pull me over her lap, and then alternate between caressing and spanking my bottom while lecturing me. It seemed the experience pained her more than it did me as she "had to spank her little boy."

Those few experiences of nudity, comfort, love, and touch became the cornerstone of my spanking kink as I emerged from puberty years later. Like a fever of need, it burned in me until I found my wife, my surrogate mommy.

Her hand on my tummy firmly pushes my hips back. Then the hairbrush taps against my bottom directly over my forbidden puckering hole. I whine in protest before it is removed. A split second later, the hard wood produces a satisfying crack against my soft bottom flesh. My eyes clench shut as I inhale with a hiss through my teeth. Each spank is an explosion of pain. Though it starts as an amplified sting of my warmup with the wood spoon, quickly it becomes a searing burn like a steak dropped on a red hot grill. I wiggle and buck, beg her to not spank so hard, and watch the world become a watery impressionistic painting as my eyes fill with tears.

It only take a minute or so for her to have me in distress. My erection softens only a little during the violent onslaught. I dance in place as she makes my bottom jiggle and bounce. With hands clenched in fists, the image is of a little boy deep into a temper tantrum after being denied candy at the store.

Then the spanking ends as abruptly as it started. Hand is removed from tummy and I am told to get dressed. She works to fit the paddle into the bag which will accompany us on our errands. To have it with us is both a threat and promise. If it was never used while we were out, packing it would be a pointless idle threat. To be effective, it must be called into action.

As I pickup the panties, I find a package within them. It reads Pinkie on the label. I almost ask what it is for when mommy interrupts, "I don't want you to soak through your panties like you did last time. Just stick that to the front of your panties, and you will be all ready for your period." At this, she laughs to herself.

The panties are tight and from experience I know will contain my boy parts and even hold them almost tight against my body. Clumsily, I unwrap and peel off the paper protecting the sticky backing and then place the pad vertically along the front of the delicate panties. As I pull the panties on, the pre-cum coating the underside comes in contact with the pad's material and is immediately absorbed. I watch my penis produce another drop as I release the waist band confident the adolescent girl's menstrual product will also protect my out layer from embarrassing wet spots and stains. 

I wonder if I can ejaculate into the pad without fear of discovery. My penis throbs at the lewdness of this idea.

Dressed and in the car, I sit in the back seat while she drives. Her handbag and the bag with my alternative outfit and paddle rest on the passenger seat while her little boy rides safely in the back seat. I fidget and wiggle. The soft pad teases my penis while the seat of the car and the tight leg holes torture my burning bottom. Tears dry on my cheeks as I continue to sniffle a little.

The first stop is the warehouse store. It is huge and already crowded. Getting out of the back seat is embarrassing. I can't tell if anyone notices.

It takes over an hour to get through the store. Sometimes I am distracted enough for my penis to soften but usually I remain full erect. I am on my best behavior but mommy's standards are very high. Twice she gives me the look and once she even tells me I better behave. In the checkout line, she found it: the thing I tried to sneak in.

This is part of our play. I hide something in the cart she won't allow me to have. In line at checkout, she finds it, and with angry disappointed eyes, tells me to go put it back. While I put it back, she starts and sometimes even completes checking us out.

The whole process is embarrassing. Someone paying close attention might notice how my big box of snack cakes is more than a husband trying to get some sweets into his life. They might pick up on how she calls the shots, he is submissive and demure, and especially how he blushes, stutters, and has a look of fearful excitement as he scurries off to put his precious treasure back on the shelf. 

The lecture starts after we are out of the store but still far from the car. She treats me like her disobedient little boy, naughty, and perpetually trying to get away with something or other. Today it is the snack cakes but this is just the most recent in a serious of behaviors which she is responsible for curbing. How else will I grow up to be a respectable adult?

I know what my misbehavior in the warehouse store will result in. I don't have to act sorry and afraid. I do have to hide my excitement as my erection throbs dangerously. I can only imagine my pad soaking up my hopeful lubricant.

We load the back of our SUV before I crawl into the back seat. The repetitive lecture has never paused but as we escaped earshot of the other people in the parking lot, she has used the word punishment more and even mentioned spanking, bottom blistering, and how I will be crying soon.

The next stop is on the way to a specialty tea store but we take a detour through a commercial office area adjacent to a park. On the weekends, the park which is used during the week by office workers looking to get a little exercise, is usually empty. She drives into the parking lot and we are not surprised to be the only car. She parks discretely so my side of the car is hidden from the entrance.

"OK, naughty boy, I am going to spank you here so maybe you will behave the rest of the day," she declares as she starts digging through the bag for the paddle. "Get out and get those pants down and off. Underwear too."

"No, mommy, please," I start whining. She just glares at me and I open the door.

Outdoor spankings are not long drawn out affairs. It will be quick and efficient. There will be no ceremony. I am on the passenger side of the car, the side protected from view. On wobbly legs I stand in the shadow of our vehicle, kick my shoes off, loosen my jeans, and let them fall to the ground. I easily step out of the puddle of denim.

There is no wet spot on my panties; the pad has done its job like it was designed to do. I know I won't be afforded the protection of even the thin fabric so I pull the front away from my erection and try to inspect the pad for evidence of my misguided arousal. I am disappointed the clear fluid I've been producing has only made the pad slightly discolored beneath the tip of my penis.

Mommy rounds the back as I am pulling my panties over my knees. When I stand back up, she is there, her hand is placed on my tummy, the paddle taps my bottom, and then I am being spanked briskly. My buttocks are immediately on fire as I wave my clenched fists effeminately. At first, I try not to cry out and largely suppress the sounds of a little boy begging for mercy. I dance in place and she holds me firm as the paddle reigns righteous fire on my jiggling posterior. Suddenly it is over. It was just long enough to reignite the fire and focus my attention.

"You just leave your pants off, young man. I want you to think about this spanking with your ouchie bottom on the car seat." I almost protest but don't; it would be a bad idea to give her an excuse to start spanking me again. Maybe later but not now. Also, this a sign my next spanking will be coming very shortly.

I gather up my clothes and awkwardly climbed into the backseat. We leave a beach towel back there largely for when I'm not allowed pants because I've been naughty. I spread the towel over the seat and sit on half of it. The other half is there and ready should I need modesty. My frustrated little soldier pokes up out of my lap above the two testicles resting on my thighs. The slit is slick with slippery lubricant already. My burn of my bottom is joined with a tingle as blood rushes to heal my abused flesh.

Mommy doesn't put the paddle away; just lays it on the seat, starts the car, puts down all the windows, then turns the car off, and opens the door before announcing, "wait here; I am going to go look for those pretty flowers that grow here." Then she is out of the car and walking toward the tree line.

What will happen next is inevitable. My bottom tingles as my stomach quickly fills with butterflies again. On cue, my little soldier throbs and drools. She will find a reason to spank me when she gets back to the car. It happens every time. I just have to sit here and wait for it to happen. Wait and think.

My jeans are on the towel next to me. The panties rest on them with the pad clearly visible. A wave of excitement and shame washes over me. How many little girls  were introduced to these pads today by their mothers? I was one of those little girls.

Little girls have little clitties and here I was sitting with my little clitty all exposed to the whole world. My budding sexuality on display. My aroused sex straining for adult relief even as I endure the punishment of a child.

Another spanking wouldn't be too long from now. Mommy keeps me naked when she knows I will need another spanking or two soon. This is why the last one was so short; another one is coming very soon.

The cool breeze across the tip of my member is its only stimulation. The soft pad of in my panties felt nice against my sex. It had been warm, soft, gentle pressure. Safe, contained, hidden, the little drops soaked up immediately. My arousal was a secret. Now though, I am on display as horny, ready to mate, looking for a sexual experience. I couldn't be more naughty. Where is my sense of shame? Why are my privates engorged? What about sitting pants-less on a stinging bottom in a public parking lot makes me want to masturbate or have sex?

My penis looks up at me a cries a frustrating tear. "Touch me, please," it begs.

Mommy is walking back with just a couple of flowers. I didn't see her until she was close and for some reason this scares me.

"Slim pickings today," she sighs as she reaches through the front passenger window to put the flowers on the seat. "Has my naughty little boy had a good think about behaving better?"

"Yes, mommy," I whisper as she moves to my open window. I know what she is about to see and I look down to confirm it will be as bad as I think it will be. My little nub peeks out of my lap just an inch or so. He is pale blue and his little purse wraps tight around my precious berries. The tip is wet with lubrication tears and some have run down the underside of my shaft right over the super sensitive place.

"Oh what is this? You are supposed to be thinking about how you will be a good boy, and here you sit with your little pee-pee all excited. Thinking about sexy things, aren't you?"

"No, ma-ma," I try to say.

"What would someone think if they saw you this way? That you were a little horny pervert? And you boys think it is sexy to show off your hard little doo-dads. If you were a little girl with a hard little clitty sitting here, any man walking by would think she was 'open for business', wouldn't he? Such a double standard. And a silly one since your penis isn't much larger than a clitoris.

"You make me so mad. Get out of the car; you need another spanking," she announces while opening the door. 

I knew it was coming but still, when the time arrives, it is so much worse.  I climb out as she fetches the paddle. My legs are weak as I hit the ground. Immediately, drops of my pre-cum sprinkle my thighs. Cool air caresses my naked behind. Then mommy pulls me away from the car by my elbow and spins me around so I am on her right side. The firm hand on my elbow disappears and is placed on my tummy. Hard wood taps my bottom and I squeak a high pitched "noooo" a fraction of a second before gunshot crack of wood against soft flesh announces that my punishment has begun.

The volley is brisk and hard but lasts less than a minute. My clenched fists wave and I dance from foot-to-foot. Mommy holds me steady with her strong left hand. She pushes firmly forcing my hips back and my bottom out. She spanks me thoroughly and evenly spreading the stinging burn over both cheeks and even along the cleft down the middle.

I hear the sound of a child in distress, begging for mercy, apologizing, and promising to be good. That these are my words from my mouth barely registers this subconscious response emanating from me.

These spankings aren't meant to break me, just reignite the sting, focus my attention, keep tears in my eyes, and make my bottom sting and burn the whole day long. It ends when she knows I am beginning to panic. Later, she will spank me well past this point but for now, each spanking is just foreshadowing of what will happen then.

"Maybe you need to understand what it is like for girls? How we feel objectified as sexual objects by everyone the second we show even the slightest bit of our sexuality much less arousal?

"I brought a nice skirt and top with today just in case you were extra naughty. Take that t-shirt off and let's dress you like a pretty little girl and see how you like trying to hide an engorged little clitty."

Maybe it doesn't make complete sense but we are both in the moment and the moment is charged with sexual energy in spite of my sniffling. I pull the t-shirt over my head as mommy retrieves the skirt. I want to ask to put my panties on but I know the answer will be 'no' and the penalty for asking for modesty might be more from the paddle. My bottom's sting keeps my mouth shut.

I toss the t-shirt on the backseat where it lands safely leaving my precious panties uncovered. Mommy hands me the crop top and I silently slip into the loose garment. Even though I am not muscular, I do have the shoulders of a boy and can only comfortably wear girls clothing that is off the shoulder. Its loose fit hides my flat chest while still showing plenty of skin. I squirm into the garment and marvel at how light and delicate it is. All my girl clothing is like this and I love it.

The matching skirt is pale pink with lots of folds but not pleats. It rides high at about my belly-button but only goes to about mid-thigh. The loose folds will help disguise my erect sex organ if I am careful. Mommy hands the skirt to me and I try to look ashamed even as I shiver with excitement. This is the trick: acting disappointed and upset enough to seem like I am being punished, but not so much as to deserve more spanking to adjust my attitude.

Under scrutiny, I won't pass as a girl or woman but from a distance and in the right light, I will blend in just fine. My penis flexes and drools as I step into the pretty garment. Mommy pulls out my pretty pink headband which with my unisex haircut, completes my transformation to feminine from masculine.

"You be careful not to let your little poker make stickies on your pretty skirt or you will be standing at the sink washing out your stains with a blistered bottom," mommy threatens. More of a promise, really. I will most likely be doing this very chore when we get home.

"While in the car, you can just leave your girl parts uncovered. No touching! Naughty little girls aren't to play with their tickles." The rule sounds like a commandment I am supposed to remember from the Bible.

We leave the safety of the corporate park with me sitting in the back seat effectively naked from the waist down, skirt bunched up around my hips, and my boy/girl parts proudly on display.

Our next stop is a surprise to me. Mommy pulls into a drive-through declaring she is thirsty. I shrink in the backseat trying not to be seen. Mommy orders me a sports drink even though she knows I hate these. I don't complain but pout as loudly as I can while remaining silent. At the window, I cover my lap with my skirt while money is exchanged for our beverages.

No one notices me in the backseat or if they do, they don't say anything.

As we pull forward, I expose myself again without being told. What is about to happen next will be plenty naughty already.

"Mommy got you a nice cool drink, baby!" she says to me after pulling into a spot. She turns to hand the large drink and a straw and sees my pouting face. "What's wrong, sweetie?" she asks pretending not to know.

"I wanted a pop," I say like a little brat.

"Now, honey," she patiently explains, "there is too much sugar in pop. My little angel can't have so much sugar."

"I want a pop," I pout.

"You are being so difficult today. I bought you this. It is good for you and cost more even."

My now bare erect member throbs as I anger mommy. I pout more and don't reach to take the beverage.

"That is it, missy. With all the spanking you've had today, I would think you would try your level best to not get more. I guess we just need another reminder."

"No mommy, please, I don't want more spankee," I whine and, for good measure, take the drink finally. But I continue to pout and even kick the seat in front of me in defiance.

Mommy huffs, "that is too bad. I have half a mind to spank you right here."

"No, mommy, please," I whine even more annoyingly.

This does it. She turns the car off, gets out, walks briskly around to the passenger side, gets the paddle off the seat, opens my door, and starts to pull me out.

What happens next is part her kink and part mine. It is also why in spite of any of our other differences and problems, we have the strongest of relationships. What flows out of her in the next few minutes comes from a dark place inside her.

"Out, out right now," she barks pulling me by my elbow. "Turn around. Bend over. Elbows on the seat.

"Eyes down. There isn't anything you need to see."

Then her hand is up my skirt and rests on gently my bottom. "Spread your legs. Arch your back." I do as I am told. The effect exposes my bottom hole, presents it to the world, presents it to mommy.

Her finger grazes over my crinkly opening. I make the mistake of pushing out my hips and exposing myself even more. A gasp escapes my lips revealing my excitement, arousal, desire, and need.

Mommy sighs before saying, "I try so hard to be a good mother to you. To teach you right. To keep you safe. And yet, here we are in a public place and you are as horny as a cat in heat. Rearing back and presenting yourself to your own mother. Almost begging me. Just disgusting slutty behavior."

As her finger lightly teases my entrance, she continues: "oh you feel all grown up and like it is OK to wear sexy clothes, show off your little bits, make the boys want you? Well it isn't. I've tried to teach and discipline you. Do you listen? No. You are so disobedient, you won't even accept and drink what I bought you.

"Do you think a boy will see you like this and want to be nice to you? To gently put his penis right here?" Gentle fingertip tapping accompanies this question. "Gently push inside you? Make love to you slowly?"

"That's not how it works, Missy. Sure he might take you to a movie and then ice cream, but once he has you convinced he is nice, you will end up pants-less, your bottom in the air, and that growling drooling animal forcing his phallus into your bowels."

She has a number of these scenarios she will use to torture me with. Each one takes my kink persona of the innocent little virgin girl and shatters it. My naiveté results in being preyed on by the stranger, boyfriend, brother, friend, father, uncle, or other man. Each one lures me in, presents as my defender and protector, but then either shows their true colors or simply reacts in the moment. My beautiful romantic sexual awakening is ruined as he takes advantage of my powerlessness.

I am never sure what really happened and what is her mind's interpretation. There were certainly challenges in her childhood and a complicated relationship with many of the males in her family, particularly her father. Though the stories conflate and distort, her teenage boyfriends and even her college romances were sometimes toxic as if the model of her nuclear family set her up for more trauma. I was the opposite of the guys she usually dated. They were loud, big, hairy, and considered themselves to be alpha males. I was in her group of friends.

I didn't swoop in after she was hurt by yet another animal. Instead, she got counseling. It was long after she started with her therapist before I became a romantic interest. She still wanted the exciting danger of a Man, but knew she needed someone who would love her. As she worked through her trauma, she needed to express her anger not only at the men who hurt her, but toward the mother who let them and the little girl she was who was an easy victim. My broken psyche fit hers like a puzzle piece.

"Is that what you want to have happen? Sure, you want a prince, but princes don't pay attention to girls who are easy. The boys who notice your little sexy bottom, aroused little clit, perky little breasts, and your pouty lips will treat you nice only for as long as it takes to get you alone. They will seduce you and then take you. It will hurt and you will try to be sexy so they will hurry up and fill you with their sticky cum. It isn't until you cry, then they will grunt and spurt their semen into you."

Mommy's finger made light circles over my little hole. I willed her to enter me, pushed back against the feather touch hoping a finger would penetrate. The sound from across the parking lot of cars in the drive through and families entering and exiting the restaurant were more than background noise; it was life as it should be. Behind the car at the edge of the parking lot, a little girl with a swollen clitoris rears back and presents herself. She would take whatever treatment would scratch her itch, give her the release she needs, sate her desire. Any penis on any man will do.

"I try to teach you to be a good girl. I buy you healthy food, beg you to exercise, fight with you to dress modesty, and all you do is pout, disrespect me, and give into all of your simplest desires: food, lay around, sleep in, dress like a slut. Do you want to be a pudgy knocked up teen mom living in a trailer? Getting used by every boy in the neighborhood? Hmmm? Just holes the can fuck? No one takes you on dates or treats you nice. Bring over a bag of fast food, and you will take them however they want to take you. None of them will be seen in public with you, none of them will marry you, none of them will be the father to the babies they put in you."

A car pulls up and a girl gets out. She is happy to be at the fast food restaurant. She is happy to be with her mommy. I hear their voices but can't understand the words. Mommy can see. "Do you hear her? She's pretty. About your age. Wearing a pretty dress too. She looks like a good girl. Her mommy is happy too. I bet they don't have to spank. I bet her little girl's clitty is all tucked away like a good girl's is supposed to be. I bet she is wearing her pretty panties over her pale bottom.

"Not like you rearing up like a cat in heat. Presenting your sex. Oh you make me so mad."

This is the phrase that always precedes the hairbrush's kiss. My skirt is flipped up over my back, a second passes as she switches the paddle to her dominant hand, and then with my cheeks spread wide, the first spank lands. It punishes all the sensitive flesh between. I squeal softly, convulse, tuck, and clench involuntarily. The next spank lands on the crack but doesn't penetrate like the first. The effect is still cumulative so I continue to squeal.

"Oh hush, this is just a little reminder; you have a real bottom blistering coming to you when we get home." 

The parking lot is too public for mommy to spank me for long. My knees buckle and her left hand takes a handful of the skirts fabric and hem in her grip. She pulls up and back. I am on tip-toes for the last half-dozen. Tears fall from my eyes onto the seat and from my forgotten member onto the pavement.

Letting go of my skirt, mommy commands, "sit and down, buckle up, and drink what I bought you." I move quickly to obey. Now is not the time to make her more angry. While I climb into the car, I quickly look around the parking lot to see if anyone noticed. To be honest, I can't tell. Everything seems normal.

The sports drink is utilitarian. Mommy wants me hydrated. She believes this will help me make bigger squirts and help me recover after I make. 

The tea shop is one of my favorite stops on errand days but for all the wrong reasons. One reason is because all the women who work and shop there don't just look and dress like mommy, they almost act like her too. Strong, sure of themselves, prim, and proper. I can imagine each of them taking me over the knee for a thorough spanking.

The other reason makes me uncomfortable. I probably won't be the only girl there. It is a popular place for mothers to go with their daughters. I will probably be the only little boy in girl's clothes. All the other little girls will really be little girls. Little girls with mommies. They all look like spanking mommies. Maybe some of them are.

When I am in the tea shop, I imagine every little girl being spanked just like me. My mommy knows this about me. 

In the parking lot of the tea shop, mommy spends a couple minutes by my door putting on my makeup. Just enough so I don't like as much like a boy. I am a little shorter than mommy and I don't have big muscles. Mommy wears heals and I wear a flat pair of pink Chucks. This makes her a good bit taller than me. The effect is that I am an awkward and uncomfortable adolescent daughter unless someone looks carefully which no one does.

I am still bristling erect and have had my skirt pulled up over my little poker ever since my parking lot spanking. As mommy finishes my lipstick, she nods at my panties and says, "better put your panties back on in case you get over excited. I would hate for you to make a mess on their nice carpet."

I am always nervous walking into the tea store. Unlike a big box store, it is small and people want to help, be nice, and make a personal connection. The pad in my panties caresses my sex while the tight elastic bites into my stinging flesh.

There are enough customers for the two sales people to be too busy to ask us if we want help. More customers, however, are a different problem. People too close to me might sense something about me is just a little off. In the tea room in the back, two older women were scowling while six pre-teen girls in party dresses sit for tea. The girls were clearly not behaving to their chaperone's standards. Of course, nothing untoward happened, but in my head, six little sets of buttocks were bright red. Six little faces were covered in tears, scrunched up in pain. Little breasts and slits uncovered and forgotten by the six spanked girls.

I shivered imagining each of the girls with my left hand just above the pubis mound holding them in place as I spank them to tears. Mommy sees my furtive glances at the backroom, how I try to inconspicuously look at the teas near the door, and how I have blushed. In my ear she whispers, "I can tell the girl on the end, the brunette in the light green dress, she is the one who would push out her bottom when it comes time for her spanking. She would show it all--asshole, clitoris, labia, vagina--to whoever was behind her." I rub my legs together and the pad caresses my erection. "Might even wiggle her butt to taunt you to spank her. She wants it, but doesn't know why. Her little body craves something she doesn't understand. Spank her and then take her. Her body knows even though her mind doesn't yet."

It is too much for me. I shiver and feel my knees buckle. I whisper, "mommy, it's coming out. I can't stop it. I'm sorry, mommy," as we turn away from the room so I don't make a scene.

I close my eyes hoping if I can't see anyone, no one will see me. Mommy holds me steady by the elbow as I have my orgasm in the aisle of the tea store. I stay quiet even though I know I am blushing and shivering as the tingles build and then wash over me. Semen pulses out of my penis into the waiting pad. As the moment passes, I open my eyes hoping no one is looking at me. Thankfully, we are still alone in the aisle.

"All done," mommy asks. I nod my head. "Very naughty," she hisses. 

She takes my hand and leads me down the aisle. My knees are weak as I recover.

Mommy buys tea we don't really need as I fidget nervously by the door. I really am ashamed at what just happened. For the first time all day, my penis is not erect. The spell has been broken and I am just a man dressed like a little girl. In my panties is a menstrual pad saturated with my semen. I deserve all my spankings. If I was brave, I would ask mommy to spank away how ashamed I feel. That will come later. In my unaroused state, it is all so real, so dirty, so perverted, so naughty, and so deserving of a truly memorable spanking.

And I'm tired. On the drive home to unload the car, I fall asleep in my seat in the back of the car just like a child after going to the park. I wake up to us parked in the garage. "Help me unload the car and then we can get some lunch!" she say cheerfully.

My little nap in the car has me groggy. I stretch, get out, and start carrying stuff into the house. I am on my second trip when I realize my pantie pad is at capacity. "Mommy?" I ask nervously.

"Yes, baby?"

"Mommy, I think my thing is all full." My penis throbs gently as I slip into character.

"Your thing?" she asks pretending not to know.

"In my panties," I say shyly.

"Oh, I see. Well, let's put away the groceries and then we can take care of your little messy, OK?" she offers. I just nod.

The groceries take very little time to get put away leaving me standing in the kitchen nervously waiting for mommy to make the next move. She strides in from the garage and announces we need to go into the spare bedroom. This is a little ominous because the spare bedroom is where I am little. She is expecting me to be in character. Once there, "be a good girl and just take off your skirt," she instructs while taking a seat on edge of the bed.

I unzip, let it fall, and step out of it. "OK, let's see this big mess of yours," she says beaconing me toward her. With her index finger, she pulls away the waistband of my panties and we both look down at my straining member covered in viscous sticky semen. The pad soaked up the thin liquid leaving what looked like paste.

"Oh baby, such a mess you made," she says disapprovingly. "Was seeing those pretty little girls was too much for you? Or did your panty liner feel too nice against your little penis?"

"I, um, don't," I stumble to answer.

She takes over. "I bet you were thinking about how nice it would be to spurt all over their pretty party dresses.

"One time, I was getting ready for school and daddy came into my room. I was wearing a little dress and he said I looked beautiful. He got all excited and asked me to lie down on the bed. He was just wearing his bathrobe and when he got on the bed, he knelt over me. His penis was so big and hard that morning. He said it was because I was so pretty and sexy. I barely touched it and 'POP' all over my dress.

"Daddy was a little embarrassed but very happy. He told me how much he loved me and how proud he was of me and how pretty and sexy I am.

"I had to find a new outfit for school but when I got home after school, daddy had bought me two new dresses!"

I have never been able to figure out if the stories about her father are true or not. They most certainly had an incestuous relationship but her stories are endlessly perverted, taboo, and conflicting.

Regardless, the river of filth has me flustered. She wants me not only aroused but aroused by the most disgusting ideas. She wants not only my orgasms to be conflicting events but even just my arousal. Moments of pleasure as well as pain.

"Whatever set you off, you sure made a mess." Then releasing the waistband and making eye contact, "Go fetch another pair of panties and I'll get you another pad ready."

I scurry to the dresser where all of my pretty clothes are kept. Though I have grownup panties of lace, I find another pair of plain cotton for everyday wear. This pair is more pink but still with little flowers. Though I like the sexy ones, these are the panties a little girl would wear. 

Back at her side, I find that mommy has already produced a fresh pad and I am happy to see it is pink and thinner than the pad from the morning. "Let's just use a pantie liner. You won't have another accident, right?" she asks.

"No mommy, I promise I'll be good," I answer not at all knowing if this is a promise I can keep.

"Does mommy need to give you spanking for making this big mess this morning?" she asks.

"No, mommy. It was accident," I say purposefully skipping the 'an'. "It won't happen again!"

"Hmmm," she says. "I've heard these promises before."

"Mommy, please, no more spanking," I beg.

"Sorry baby, I wish I could believe you but you have been so naughty today. We will just have a little spankee. Just a little cry so you are extra good, OK? That won't be so bad, right?"

I sniffle and shuffle my feet while whining as she starts pulling down my panties revealing the cause of so many of my spankings. Sticky semen is all over the shaft, glans, and even my scrotum. "Oh my, you are very messy," she says pulling my panties back up.

"You better lay down on the floor, baby. Mommy is going to have to clean you up before your spanking."

I won't lie: I love this treatment. I lay down flat on my back with my knees bent. I could look down and watch but find it better to just look at the ceiling. "Lift your hips for me, baby," she says before I feel her nudge a cloth diaper under my bottom. We have a stack of cloth diapers on the dresser as well as baby wipes, diaper rash cream, and baby powder. Most of it never gets used, of course.

I feel my panties being pulled down. Then soft diaper under my bottom. Cool air on my sticky wet genitals. The semen that collected between my legs, starts to slowly drip down my bottom crack.

I hear a wipe being pulled from the container and then cold wetness on my erection. I gasp at the contact. Mommy gently strokes my erection and I moan and writhe.

"Let mommy clean you up, baby. Don't be making a mess while I am trying to get you clean. That would be very, very naughty. Now calm down while I make your pee-pee clean."

I bite my lip and clench my hands into fists. The stroking thankfully stops but then I feel the wipe circle around the head just beneath my corona where my foreskin would be if I wasn't circumcised. Gently she circles then gives wipes across my little mouth.

The soiled wipe is placed on my tummy and another pulled from the container. Firmly but gently my scrotum is wrapped in the cool moist wipe. "Are your little testes working hard, baby? I bet they are," she muses.

Another wipe on my belly and the sound of a third being pulled. "OK, baby, legs up," she commands quietly. I pick my feet up. "Spread your legs. You are very goopy in here. So messy. This is why we have to be careful where we put our cummies, right? Cummies go in tummies otherwise they make a big naughty mess."

The cool wipe on her index and middle finger firmly touches my little bottom hole and then wipes firmly up presumably removing the remainder of my shameful emission.

"All done!" she announces. "Sparkly clean and ready for his spanking!" she announces to no one. I groan even as my erect penis betrays me by throbbing so hard it taps my tummy. I put my legs down as mommy gingerly picks up the wipes.

"Be a dear, and go fetch mommy's hairbrush from her bathroom."

I struggle to my feet as mommy moves to the waste basket to throw away the baby wipes.

Every time I am to be spanked, the anticipation is delicious torture. When I bring the paddle, spoon, or hairbrush to mommy, it is so much more intense. The walk seems so long. The implement heavy and scary. Each step one closer to when my bottom will be punished. By the time I am back in the spare room, mommy is sitting on the side of the bed again. Handing her the hairbrush is awkward. She takes it from me with one hand and then holds my hand with the other. Looking into my eyes, she says, "now, mommy has to spank you for making cummies in your panties. You know it is naughty to make your sticky squirts and it was extra naughty making in the store and especially near those little girls. I was so embarrassed. You don't want mommy to be embarrassed, do you?"

I shake me head, "no mommy."

"Good boy.

"I'm going to spank you now and then we will get some lunch. I want you to be on your best behavior the rest of the day. If you are a good boy, no more spankings."

I am pulled into position, her left hand moves to my tummy, and the wood hairbrush's business side taps my bottom. I yelp at each spank and though I don't count, it feels like about 10 before she pauses. My bottom isn't yet on fire but the sting is making me panic.

"Was your little cum-cum in the tea store worth it?" I shake my head. "Your bottom has to pay the price for those few seconds of little tingles. I hope you learn your lesson." The spanking starts again and even though I am ferociously erect and aroused, already needy in my urge to orgasm, for a moment, I am really a naughty little boy.

Mommy stops before I am really crying but I am shaking with adrenaline. "Did you learn your lesson?" she asks.

"Yes mommy!" I declare.

"Tell me."

"No more cummies, mommy," I say proudly.

"Good enough, baby. Let's go have lunch and then buy you some nice new school clothes."

My clean panties are on the bed with the panty liner already in place. Mommy helps me step into them and even helps me put my skirt back on. Just minutes after the last spank lands, I am in my seat in the car on the way to lunch.

We go to one of those fast casual places where we order at the counter but they bring our food to us. I am nervous but on my best behavior. The hard wood of my seat is uncomfortable against my well spanked bottom. Mommy sees me grimace when I sit down and smiles.

Mommy makes we get up for napkins, more soy sauce, and drinks. She tells me to again get myself the sports drink. I don't complain. I don't dare. She bought me the biggest size and makes me refill it before we leave the restaurant.

Our next errand is at the department store. We will pick out new outfits for me and mommy will make me try them all on. Like all department stores anymore, it seems to always be in danger of going out of business. They almost certainly know I am a man. In fact, if you know what to look for, they seem to know men shopping for women's clothing is keep their store open. The bigger size racks in the female section has more off-the-shoulder and girly styles than the other racks. The men's section also has a bunch of clothes only women trying to dress like men would wear. Not only do they know those who cross-dress are part of the customer base, they also have family bathrooms where those gender bending can go without having to out themselves.

After my big drink which I finished noisily prompting a "good girl" from my mommy that made me blush and tingle, a trip to the potty was becoming an important and urgent need. Once in the store, mommy lets me go into one of the family bathrooms by myself to take care of my boring business. I promise to be a good girl and hurry.

When I come out, I am not surprised mommy isn't waiting outside the door. I find her talking to an older woman with a name tag who I recognize as the manager. Before I can get close enough to hear what they are talking about, mommy says thank you and the woman responds with not a problem before smiling at me. The smile is disconcerting. She knows because she knows everything.

"There you are baby," mommy greets with a voice full of sugar. "I was telling the nice lady how you have been fussy today. I said you might need a spanking and asked her if there was a place in the store we could take care of this if you don't behave. She told me not worry, happens all the time and as long as we are in one of the family bathrooms or even a closed fitting room, no one will mind. Isn't that nice of them?" she asked. Mommy makes it sound like this is the first time they've met. Truth is mommy has this conversation with every manager, including this one, every time when come where.

"Yes, mommy," I say as sweetly and demurely as I can. It is hard to not sound both aroused and nervous. I've been spanked in this store before. Almost every time I've been in this store, I've left with a burning bottom and tear streaked face. It is always very embarrassing.

"The manager said they have just what I am looking for over in the Teen Miss section," mommy declares in her happy sing song voice. She takes my hand and pulls me down the aisle. Her purse is open and the hairbrush paddle sticking out slightly.

"Mommy, your purse is open," I whisper.

"Oh thank you, baby. I was showing the manager what I have to spank you with. She says they sell some very nice wood spoons in the Kitchen department as well as very sturdy bath brushes over by the bath towels. We will have to go take a look!"

We don't own a bath brush. I am super scared of them and I gulp audibly.

"Oh baby, you are getting to be such a big girl. Mommy won't aways be able to spank you with just a little old hairbrush."

The entire Teen Miss section is full of happy little girl clothes. Even their more emo pieces are only slightly rebellious poser style: words like "Rebel" written in pink on a black tank top. Racks of XL and XXL stand discretely but still out of place off to the side in the tops, skirts, dresses. A decidedly smaller section of bigger sizes is next to jeans and other pants.

Mommy picks out clothes and hands them to me. I barely register what she is grabbing. All of it are pastels and most are pink. With my arms full we head to the fitting rooms. Mommy sits near the big three panel mirror while I go in to change and try on each outfit. I strip to just my panties and am confronted by my boyish hips and chest. The mirrors let me see my red swollen bottom cheeks through the thin material. The pantie liner pad in front hides my boy parts but not how I am fully erect.

Though we will probably find me a new outfit, mommy's ulterior motive is to find an excuse to spank me. While I am slipping on a pale blue party dress, two people walk into the fitting room area. I freeze as the mothers greet each other. Someone, presumably a girl in her teens, slips into a changing room.

"I hope you don't mind, my little girl is trying on clothes too." I can hear the air-quotes around "little girl". "If this makes either of you uncomfortable, we can move to the other fitting rooms.

"Oh no, that won't be necessary, but thank you for asking," the woman responds. "We are very progressive."

"You are too kind. Thank you," mommy responds.

I take a deep breath and open the door. The pastel blue dress is almost painted on and I wasn't able to zip it up all the way. "Mommy, this one doesn't fit," I whine as I take step out of the fitting room. "I couldn't get it zipped up all the way."

The two woman stare at me. Mommy breaks the moment of silence and waves me over saying, "let me help with the zipper, dear." I stumble in her direction, turn around, let her zip me up. The dress is obscene. Even if it was a size larger, it probably wouldn't help. As I take a step back, both women focus on my crotch. In the mirror, I can see why. My little straining erection is outlined nicely. I can even see it throb.

Mommy comes to my rescue, "Oh baby, it is too tight for your shoulders." Shoulders? Well, yeah, though the dress is off the shoulder but so tight around my chest, I am muffin topping over the top especially in the back. "Do you think we could get it let out a little around her chest?" mommy asks the snickering woman to her side.

"That fabric will be so hard to match. I think she needs a bigger size but it looks so great everywhere else."

Mommy nods, "Yes, you are probably right. I don't think there is a larger size. It is too expensive to take a risk with. OK, baby, try another," she says just as the other fitting room door opens. The teen is beautiful and she immediately looks directly at my crotch. It is inappropriately embarrassing, and yet my penis throbs under her gaze. I don't know if she noticed but I blush even more and quickly go into my fitting room and close the door. Outside, I hear our mommies praise the teen. 

The rest of my outfits fit better and aren't as revealing. I like the flouncy ruffle skirts and dresses while mommy likes the more revealing outfits. One particular skirt is shorter than any I own. Though it looks stunning on me, it made me feel super exposed. I was embarrassed even just leaving the dressing room. Mommy picked up on this and loved my reaction.

I wanted it so I picked a prim and proper dress to fight for. I knew mommy didn't like it and I didn't either. It was the perfect dress to have a tantrum over. Though it was uncomfortable and maybe a little inappropriate to model the clothes for the other woman and her daughter, it was way too much to have a temper tantrum which would surely result in a spanking in front of them. They conveniently left just as we were picking out what to buy. Just as I started displaying friction about the prim and proper dress, the manager came by to ask if we needed any help. Mommy signaled we could keep in character, "we were just deciding what we were going to buy. She doesn't like this dress, though. Says it makes her look Amish."

"It does!" I protested. "It is so boring."

We both dug in with the store manager taking my mother's side. Finally, I cross the line and said that just because boys didn't look at her anymore, didn't mean I had to be old and ugly too. The manager looked shocked and then turned to mommy and said, "well, I leave you to it then," and walked out.

"I will NOT have you talking to me like in that private and especially not in public. Back in the fitting room. I am going to adjust that attitude, little lady." Then she had me by the elbow spinning me around toward the fitting and marching me in. She closed and locked the door but as she turned to me, there was a knock on the door. We both looked shocked. Mommy unlocked the door to find the manager on the other side.

"Thought you would like to try out one of our bath brushes," she said handing the brush to her. I whined when I saw it, even reached around to rub my still stinging bottom.

"Why thank you," mommy said cheerfully. "This won't take long. Especially with this," she said as I continued to mew and whine.

"I'll leave you to it. Take as much time as you need," the manager said pulling the door closed.

Mommy turns back to me with a smile. "Skirt off now, panties too. I don't care where we are, you are getting it on the bare." I feel like this was more for the manager's ears than mine. Surely she is still listening.

I am out of my skirt quickly but have a panic moment before pulling down my panties. This is going to hurt and everyone in the store is going to hear and know I am getting a spanking. The bath brush has a longer handle than the hairbrush. The end is maybe five inches in diameter, just enough to cover one cheek at a time. 

It doesn't seem like the right time to make mommy angry so I pull down my panties finally exposing the target. They fall to my feet and I kick them off. 

"Please, mommy, I don't want a spanking."

"You should have thought about that before you said those mean things to me," she retorts.

"Please, not here, mommy. At home, please. Everyone will hear," I whine like a spoiled child.

"Oh you're getting a spanking at home too. This is just an attitude adjustment, little girl. I am going to blister your bottom good the second we get home."

I whine in protest but no words come out. Mommy wastes no time: hand on tummy, hard wood touches my right cheek as she adapts her swing to the longer instrument. Then it is gone for a brief second before a crack like a gunshot. Even though my bottom is warmed up from all the other spankings today, this one is breathtaking. Even before the second crack, I am already pleading for leniency: "please, mommy, no, owie, too owie, no, mommy, no, I'll be good, please no more spanking." It just pours out of me as I wave at the wall of the fitting room.

Mommy only spanks me a half dozen times on each cheek but I feel each all the way to my soul. Even after she finishes, I keeping saying "owie, owie, owie" in my best impression of a little girl's voice. I can tell mommy loves the bath brush. My bottom stings mercilessly. I can hear a child excitedly tell their mommy someone got a spanking.

"Am I going to get any more sass out of you?" mommy asks.

"No, no, I'll be good. Owie." I respond quickly.

"Good. Get dressed."

I do as quickly as I can. My erection is still strong and luxuriates in the soft tightness of my panties. I shiver at the sensation. Mommy gathers up the items we will purchase and places the bath brush conspicuously on top.

Rather than walk straight to checkout, we push our cart through the accessories department. Mommy picks out some pretty hair accessories for me. She is bubbly and happy. I am still embarrassed and contrite. I know I should try to match mommy's mood. Bad things will happen to my bottom if sulk.

The next stop is for new "sleep wear" for me. Mommy heads for the flannel pajamas and as much as I want them, I decide to sulk because I want a sexy nighty. Mommy picks out a pair of pink flannel pajamas. I really like them but decide to make a fuss.

"I don't like those," I say softly. Total lie, by the way. I see myself in the top only, naked from the waist down, red bottom peeking out under hem from the behind, and skinny little erection poking out in front. It would be the perfect cozy top to keep me warm and comforted while doing chores around the house on a cold winter day.  

"What? Why not? These will fit you perfectly," she says holding the top in front of my to see if it would fit.

"They are ugly. I'll look like a boy." Then, pointing at the flimsy nighties, "I want the pretty one."

This isn't a lie. I love see-through lingerie where my boy parts are barely hidden.

"Oh no, that is far too revealing."

I stomp my foot, stick out my lower lip, and fold my arms over my chest. "You are so mean. All the other girls have pretty nighties at the sleepovers. I always look like an old woman or a boy."

"Young lady, you just had a spanking for giving me attitude. You better change your tune in a hurry."

Under my breath but definitely loud enough to hear, I grunt, "ugh, I hate you."

I can never say this without getting spanking. Though I am not sure how or where it will happen, mommy will definitely take care of business. Fitting rooms are close by. The family bathrooms are across the store. We are alone in our section. Mommy tries to look angry but her eyes are deviously smiling.

Leaving our cart, she takes me by the elbow and drags me across the store. To my delight, I realize she has left the bath brush in the cart. All the way to the family bathrooms, she lectures me about my attitude, sass, backtalk, and a bunch more. She isn't loud and we don't really make a scene, but if someone saw us, they would know what is going to happen.

I apologize with plenty of "I'm sorry" and "mommy no" phrases. She just tells me I should have considered the consequences. I drag my feet and she pulls me along.

She marches me into the bathroom, lets the door close behind her, but doesn't lock it. "Panties off. Now!" she barks. It is actually scary how angry she looks.

I reach under my skirt and carefully pull them down to my knees. "Take them off," she orders with her hand out. I step out of them and when I straighten up, my penis tents out my skirt. She put them in her purse, huffs realizing the bath brush is back in the cart, and digs back in for the paddle.

Paddle in hand, she puts her purse on the tile floor of all tile room and quickly adjusts me to be to her right. I glance at the unlocked door certain she left it unlocked to make me embarrassed and nervous. Her left hand gathers my skirt up uncovering my bottom and the spanking starts without warning. The room seems to amplify the cracks of the wood on my bottom. My protestations are immediate and completely sincere and heartfelt. I am very much being spanked and it very much hurts like bee stings.

A long spanking is probably a bad idea in such a public place. Good thing it isn't necessary. She spanks hard and fast, and I go completely to pieces. For the first time today, I start to really cry not just because of my burning bottom, but because it is so real, so embarrassing, so dangerous, and I am so naughty.

And it was inevitable. Every one of our play dates has a spanking where I am furiously aroused and crying at the same time. It isn't the only time she will make me cry, but arousal won't be a factor for that spanking. The despair of knowing I will be spanked to tears again makes nervous anticipation build and build even when the activity at the moment is overwhelming already.

"I am going to finish your spanking at home," she growls in my ear, and with three hard cracks down low and right over my little bottom hole, she is finished. The only sound in the bathroom is my crying. The paddle disappears into her purse as my skirt falls over my red and swollen bottom. A second later, her hand is on my elbow again, the door is opened, and I am marched--still crying--across the store back to the pajamas.

I slowly stop sobbing, but I am a sniffling mess and even hiccup a few times as I get my composure back. Mommy lets go when we get to our cart, puts the flannel pajamas in, and says, "can we get you some new underwear? Will you behave?"

I vigorously nod and then in shock realize, mommy never let me put my panties back on. Looking down, I can see my skirt tenting out in spite of its loose fit.

Mommy takes me to the undergarment section where she picks out a cheap package of girl's panties. I am horrified with her choice. Women's underwear would make sense and teen girl panties maybe would be weird. Little girl panties are just deviant and perverted.

Of course, I can't wait to put them on. My tent bounces as my penis throbs in approval.

Mommy tosses the package in the cart and turns towards checkout but I stop her. "Mommy, I'm not wearing panties. She might see my...", I trail off.

"Young lady, you've lost your underwear privileges for the rest of the day. Be happy I am letting you keep your skirt on. If you are going to embarrass me, you can be embarrassed too," she whispers before leading the way to the checkout.

I keep my hands strategically placed until I am close enough to mommy to keep either her or our cart in front of me. At checkout, I hide against the counter as long as I can. I catch the sales girl who thankfully looks to be at least in college, glancing at me. I can see her doing the math in her head as she figures out I was the one getting spanked in the store. She smiles and I blush. Then she talks with mommy about me like I am not really there. "Some back to school shopping?" she asks.

"Just a couple additions," mommy says.

"We will be getting our fall line in soon. Some very cute dresses, at least I think so. Our buyer is getting some of what she calls 'farm chic' outfits. It is sort of a cross between urban cool and 4h. Like, country girl designs on little skirts and tops. Very cute. Should be here in a couple weeks."

"Oh yes, we will have to come back and check those out." Then nodding at me, "hopefully someone will be better behaved."

The sales girl giggles, I blush, and my penis who loves it when I am humiliated, flexes and makes my skirt bounce.

"Shopping for clothes is stressful. You would be surprised how many spankings happen in this store. The parents that yell are much more disruptive." Then looking like she just solved a math problem adds, "less effective too."

Mommy produces a credit card and thankfully the rest of the transaction doesn't involve me.

Once we are out of the store, I relax a little. The parking lot has traffic but I feel invisible since I can't see who is in the cars. Undoubtedly my penis is leaking lubrication and painting the inside of my skirt. Drops of the slippery stuff already are on my bare legs. The light material barely touches my bottom making it feel like I am showing my spanked cheeks to the whole world.

We put my new outfits in the back of the SUV and then mommy follows me to my door. "When I was a naughty girl, I had to be naked until I had all my spanks. You haven't had all your spanks yet so while you are in the car, no bottoms for you. I don't want you to forget your are still getting a big long spanking when we get home."

"No, mommy, please. What if someone sees me?" I whine dangerously.

"You should have thought about that before you were naughty."

I only have to undo my zipper for the skirt to fall to ground leaving me naked from the waist down. The door is open blocking the view from the front of the car and mommy is carefully blocking the view from the back and the side. Still, it is scary and exhilarating to be naked.

"Pick up your skirt; don't let it get dirty," mommy says clearly irritated.

Bending over makes me feel even more exposed but I do so quickly and mostly discretely. "Up you go," mommy says gesturing me into the car. I manage this less modestly, but quickly I am sitting down with my bare bottom on the towel. Mommy makes a big show of putting my seatbelt on for me before finally closing the door. While she is walking around and getting into the driver's seat herself, I look down at my ignored penis. As if to mock me, he cries a tear of lubrication.

We head for our final stop of the day: the park with the ice cream. "I don't think you deserve ice cream today, but I want some. Can you behave at the park?" I nod vigorously as she glances in the mirror. 

"Yes, mommy. I promise I'll be good."

"We are going to have a big spanking when we get home. Don't make me have to give you another reminder at the park. You know I will do it. We've spanked there before, remember?"

It is true. She did spank me at this park but it was in the dead of winter, after dark, and we were very and most certainly alone. It was also a most awesome memory.

"Mommy?" I ask softly.

"Yes, baby?"

"Can I wear my skirt at the park?" I saw as sweetly as I can.

"I don't know. You have been very naughty."

"Please mommy."

"OK, but no panties. And you will be getting extra spanks when we get home."

"Thank you, mommy," I say with relief. "I love you, mommy," I add for good measure.

She just shakes her head.

This park is not empty. The parking lot is has only a few spots left, children are playing, couples are out on the lawn, people are running laps, and the ice cream truck is doing a booming business.

The spot we park in doesn't give us very much privacy. Mommy parks and meets me at my door. Again, she makes a big deal of unbuckling my seat belt, but while she is reaching over, she picks up my skirt. Standing back up, she holds it so I can step in as I step out of the car. In the process, my erection comes tantalizingly close to her face if only for a fraction of a second. Once I am standing in the parking lot, mommy adjusts my skirt and zips it up. Standing back a foot, she just looks at my tented out skirt and just says, "so naughty."

We walk toward the ice cream truck but on the way, mommy spies an empty bench. "Go wait for me at that bench, baby. I'll get the ice cream."

I feel conspicuous walking without mommy but I do as I am told. At the bench, I try to be super modest sitting down. I can feel the cool metal like it is against my butt cheeks after I sit down and realize my skirt had ridden up as I sat. In a panic, I make adjustments.

In front of me is the playground and to my left is the ice cream truck where mommy stands in line. In my lap, my nearly naked penis tingles and leaks. My bottom on the hard steal bench itches and tingles as it fights to heal from the day's spankings. I try to look normal but fear everyone can tell all my secrets.

Though the line is long, it moves quickly and mommy joins me with our two little cups of yummy. I am at my most polite and best behavior. In fact, I lay it on thick which mommy rightfully interprets as an attempt to get out of my spanking when we finally get home. She rolls her eyes but largely ignores my fiend politeness.

After a few bites, she says, "my daddy used to take me to a playground like this." None of her stories about her dad are appropriate for anyone to hear but a psychologist. He has been dead for over a decade so I will never know if any of the stories are true. What I do know is that the next thing mommy says could be the most disturbing and dirty thing I will hear this year.

"He would take me during the week when he didn't have a job. He didn't have a job a lot, really. He would be the only man at the park. All the other adults were moms or nannies.

Liked to push me on the swings and catch me at the bottom of the slide. But he would get tired and sit down on a bench. Then we would play the question game. The idea was he would give me a question and pick out who I was supposed to ask. I would run over to the little boy or girl and ask them the question daddy told me to ask.

"A lot of the questions were like: how old are you? or where is your mommy? or do you have a daddy? If a little girl was nice to me, daddy would have me ask her what color her panties were or ask her to show me hers. I would always run back to daddy to tell him the answers.

"Daddy asked me to ask a boy if I could see his pee-pee and the boy said 'yes' and pulled down his shorts so I could see. It was small like your little pee-pee; not all big and hairy like daddy's.

"The mommy of the little boy didn't like that he pulled down his pants and she gave him a spanking right there in the playground. His mommy spanked him like I spank you. She almost ran over and while he was just standing there with his pants down, she put one hand on his tummy and spanked him with the other one. His penis bounced around like yours does. Some kids laughed at him but others looked scared and even started crying.

"Daddy had me ask the some of the kids if they got spankings too. One girl said her daddy spanked before bed sometimes. Daddy thought that was really interesting. I asked her a bunch of questions. It didn't sound like her daddy spanked her very hard. She told me her daddy would do it with her laying over his lap. After some spanks, he would play with her tickle, and then he would spank her some more. If she promised to be a good girl, he would stop spanking her and say he needed to put special medicine on her bottom to make it better.

"So, he would make her lay down in bed, pull up her nighty, and close her eyes. Then daddy would rub in some warm sticky stuff on her bottom.

"Daddy said she was a good girl and that I should be friends with her."

She ate a few bites of ice cream almost like she wanted me to fill in the gaps in the story. I was reeling from hearing her nostalgically relate the stories of incestuous sexual abuse. The image of a man towering over his daughter and ejaculating on her pink freshly spanked bottom was beyond disturbing. She was turning my little age play spanking time into real shame. I wanted to be the little girl with a freshly spanked bottom feeling the hot drops of a man's potent cum splattering on my already burning flesh. My penis drooled and twitched in approval.

"After a bunch of questions, daddy would say it was time to get ice cream but first I had to make daddy happy. He would take me into the woods where there was a tree that had fallen over. Daddy would sit on the tree and pull down his sweat pants. I would put his pee-pee in my mouth. Daddy would hold my head and say how I was a good girl and super pretty. Then he would say, 'here it comes baby, make sure all my cum-cum goes into your tum-tum,' and it would start squirting right in my mouth!

"Daddy was so big and when he put his stuff in my mouth, he would get even bigger! There would be a lot of the stickies and it came out really fast. When daddy was all done squirting, he would say I was a good girl and how much he loved me. He made me promise not to tell anyone though. He said they would be jealous and mean to us if they knew how much he loved me.

"Then, he would take me to get ice cream and let me have whatever I wanted!"

Such depraved stories this woman could tell. Mommy loves to watch my conflicting reactions of arousal and disgust. In my lap and hidden under a thin layer of fabric, my erection throbbed and drooled. It was the worst place for me to be this aroused and this vulnerable. So many innocent people doing perfectly normal activities. And there sit mommy and me rehashing her little girl experiences of sexual abuse and working me into a horny aroused state.

"Mommy, I think I need to make squirties again," I whisper.

"Right now, baby?" she asked.

"Not yet, mommy, but soon. My pee-pee is tingly and keeps bumping."

"Maybe we better get you home before you make a mess. Come on dear, let's go home. You do still need to get a big spanking and now you are going to have another naughty," she sighs.

Walking to the car without showing my tented out skirt is super difficult. I hide by mommy as much as I can. We are walking fast. When we play, this is one of my favorite parts. It is a sort of a race where we have to get home before I pop. Of course, I probably won't pop without some stimulation but we pretend like I can spontaneously orgasm and it is just a matter of time before I will.

"Hold it in, little missy," mommy when we get to the parking lot.

"I'm trying, mommy. Ooo, it wants to come out," I whine.

At the car, I have to take my skirt off again. I am more careful to not let it fall on the ground. Mommy takes it from and before I can get in the car she says, "take off your top too. I don't want you to have an accident and gets stickies on it."

I dance from foot to foot a little while taking my top off over my head. My penis drips clear drops of pre-cum on my thighs. "Mommy, I want to make, mommy," I whine.

"No, you hold it in or I will blister your bottom right her," she warns. I whine in frustration. "Get in and don't you dare make a mess in my car."

We do move quickly and are soon driving out of the parking lot toward home. Mommy admonishes me to not touch my tinkle. I pretend like I am about to ejaculate at any moment.

We are close to home so the drive doesn't take long. As the garage door opens, mommy declare my sentence, "go straight to mommy's room and wait for me. No touching your tinkle. I will be there in a just minute. Then we will have a nice big spanking." 

She pulls in and shuts off the car. "Go on, baby," she instructs.

"But mommy, the garage door is still open," I whine.

"Yes, I have to get your clothes out of the back. I can't do that with the garage door open.

"People will see!"

"Oh, no one cares about your doo-dad or your bottom. Stop being so difficult," she declares getting out of the car.

I get out and make a big show of running into the house. In fact, I run though the house to the bedroom. Mommy won't hurry; she will make me wait. I love waiting for a spanking and standing in the bedroom is torture most excellent. In the mirror, I admire my straining erection. Its underside glistens from the slippery drops. My scrotum is a tight purse around my testicles. Veins stand out on my shaft and the head of my penis is tinted a light blue. It is a picture of a penis about to ejaculate. I throb and bounce.

Mommy walks in with the hairbrush. I start protesting right away, "no, mommy, please not the hairbrush."

"Are you kidding? You have very naughty today and now here you stand with your little doo-dad about to pop. You are most pertaining getting a good dose of the hairbrush today."

At the end of our bed is a padded bench. Mommy sets the hairbrush down on the bench and then retrieves the diaper, the sex toy, the lube, and her favorite wood spoon from the bedside table. Sitting down on the bench, she places the spoon and sex toys to her right by the hairbrush, and then unwraps the diaper. She flattens the diaper on her lap with the absorbent side up, then pats her diaper covered thighs: "Let's get your cummies out. Come on, over you go," she says with resignation.

I am staring at the diaper while my erection throbs. I am about to orgasm but it will be into a diaper, not a mouth, vagina, or bottom. No cummies going into tummies from my little penis. No, baby penises do their dirty business into diapers, just like a baby.

The saddest thing is I know how nice the diaper will feel on my erection. It will be my lover. The diaper will accept my seed like no woman will.

The idea of making into a diaper was her idea. It wasn't the baby aspect as much as how diapers are a symbol of person at any age who lacks self-control of even their most basic human functions. A man would be able to attract a woman to accept his penis and semen. She would let him breed her or degrade her with anal sex, or even swallow his ejaculation because she wants to please him. None of these things are true for me, and therefore, I am just a little boy with a penis he can't control. I am sexually of no more worth to a woman than a baby.

Ejaculating into a diaper is emasculating for me. Even when I am not being spanked, she will sometimes diaper me and make me hump a sofa cushion, ottoman, or any soft piece of furniture. Sometimes she will use her wand vibrator through the diaper. These sexual experiences are always to the soundtrack of her talking about my little baby penis.

The psychological mind-game is strong but so is the literal. Once in the diaper, I am usually there for a period of time after I've had my little ejaculation. Even with my soft penis soaking in my semen, they are not uncomfortable. It is nice to know my stickies are all contained, safe, and not at risk of making stains. 

On weak legs, I walk the two steps and then stretch out over her lap being careful to center my penis on the diaper. As expected, it feels wonderful under my throbbing erection. I have to force myself to stay still.

"Now, baby, you be sure to tell me when you are go make squirties, OK?" she asks and I nod.

The spoon taps my bottom cheeks and I hold my breath. Wood strikes my right cheek and I jump in painful surprise. My penis moves in the diaper and I am rewarded with stimulation. She spanks me fast with the lightweight piece of wood. It stings everywhere it lands but the smaller surface area makes the sting very specific and localized. Compared to the hairbrush and bath brush spankings today, the spoon isn't too bad. Finally my erection having contact with something while being spanked is amazing.

I try not to move so my buildup will last but I can't stay still. The sting of the spoon starts to drive me on. It is all very conflicting. The need for my orgasm builds though I know when it happens, she will use the hairbrush until I am totally sobbing. It will hurt so bad but it feels so good now. The tingles drive me on and the spanks stop hurting altogether. I grunt and moan like a man having sex. My hips drive my penis into the diaper usually moving it across her lap. I feel her thighs under padding.

My release sneaks up on me and I stop humping. "Mommy, it is going to come out, mommy. Mommy, oh, mommy, I, oh, mommy..."

My hips move on their own with little jerking thrusts. The subtle stimulation elongates my creep toward orgasm. I'm only vaguely aware she is using the hairbrush instead of the spoon. The building sting just holds me back for another couple seconds before I perform my vital function: ejaculation. A wave of pleasure hits me as my erection tingles and throbs. Thick fluid shoots out the tiny slit generating a satisfying friction. A man grunts and moans as the muscle between his legs pulsates. My reservoir of semen empties in seconds as my body engages in what it hopes is copulation and impregnation. The satisfying culmination of my hours of tortured arousal lasts for only seconds. 

Then reality descends. The man vanishes. A burning pain explodes in my bottom cheeks. The sound of the hard wood smacking into soft flesh fills the room as does the sound of a sincerely sorry little boy in great distress. It is only my bottom I can focus on now and it demands my complete attention. She won't stop the onslaught until I am not only crying but my fight is gone. This point is only a minute away but it feels like a lifetime for me.

The orgasm and the spanking leave me exhausted and broken. I ugly cry into the carpet, completely letting go, and feel a cathartic release. She doesn't keep spanking; there is no point except if she wants to leave me with bruises. She stops and I feel her hand gently rub my burning and stinging bottom cheeks.

"There there, baby, all done spanking," she soothes. "You were a big boy. That was a very hard spanking.

"Now just relax and let mommy putting in your binky." This what she calls the plug. It is shaped to put pressure on my prostate. A small vibrator will make it gently massage my special parts. For a second, no hands are touching me and then I feel two slippery finger part my cheeks. A second later, the hard tip of the plug presses firmly on my bottom hole. "Let it in, honey, or there will be more spanks." I try my best to relax and even rear back into the intrusion.

Truth is, it is big enough to need some force to insert. Once in, I feel very full. She works it in and I struggle to relax. The threat of more spanks is a very real threat. Just as I start to feel her losing patience, we are both surprised when my bottom swallows the bulb end. I gasp at the intrusion. Mommy adjusts it a little and then turns it on. Low rumbles are just barely heard. It feels foreign but good.

I feel the diaper being pulled up between my legs and then covering my bottom. The tape tabs are released and then attached from back to front first on the outside and then on the inside. Mommy adjusts and readjusts my diaper and when she is satisfied she says, "Are you ready to give mommy special 'thank you's for giving you such a good spanking?"

"Yes, mommy," I sputter.

"OK, up you go, then." I stand up on very shaky legs. 

She stands up and then strips naked in just seconds. I am still seeing the world through a veil of tears. Her mons venus comes into impressionist view as she removes her panties.

Mommy keeps her pubic hair thick. She is a mommy after all, not a little girl. The dichotomy between my bald and her hairy mature genitals completes our dynamic as a couple.

She moves quickly taking her position on the bed. She lays back and beacons me over pointing at her sex. I take my place between her legs, use fingers from both hands to part her pubic hair until I can see her delicate lips and her clitoris. I lick my lips and then I lick hers.

My cunnilingus skill is apparently pretty good. Like many men with size and endurance issues, I learned early on to make up for my short comings with oral proficiency.

I tease mommy by ignoring her clitoris. Instead, I focus on her labia. I can tell she is very aroused and will orgasm quickly if I switch my attention to her clitoris. A little teasing will go a long way. Too long, and she might take out her frustration on my bottom with more spanking.

Her first orgasm is full, violent, and complete. She locks my head between her thighs as she almost convulses in her release. When I am released from her strong thighs, I rest my head on her mons pubis while stroking her thighs. After a couple minutes, she says nothing while pushing my face down between her thighs again.

Her second orgasm takes longer and is less violent. I continue through it and on to her third or maybe fourth. She collapses and pushes my head away saying, "good boy, good boy," breathlessly.

"Are you ready?" she asks a minute later.

"Yes, mommy. My penis is hard again," I say quietly.

She pulls herself up to a seated position and waves me to stand between her knees. I am quick to get into position. She releases the tape on my diaper and carefully peals it away. The diaper soaked up some of my semen, but there is still enough to make a mess on carpet if we aren't careful. She pulls it off me and then hands the soiled diaper to me. I get to see the little mess I made. I carefully fold up the diaper, and resealing it with the tape tabs. I put it carefully out of the way and turn back to mommy. She is staring at my penis which is indeed suitably erect. It doesn't look as urgent as it did earlier, but serviceable.

"Come here, baby. Give mommy special hugs," she says in as motherly a voice as she can muster considering how aroused she looks.

She lays back and spreads her legs. I climb on the bed and between her knees. My bald and childlike genitals so close to her mature and hairy entrance is as disturbing as any of the stories she told me today.

I slip into her easily as I collapse on her. She pulls me into a bear hug, "I love you, baby. Do a good job. Make mommy proud."

I do my best. My third orgasm of the day takes enough time to make her cum three more times. The first in missionary position holding me tight between her breasts. We rollover and her second happens as she straddles my hips. Finally, she kneels on the bed and I take her from behind.

The dominant position, small vibrator in my bottom still thumping on my prostate, and mommy's beautiful bottom below me is enough to push me over the edge. She orgasms with me as I attempt to impregnate the woman, my mommy, my wife.