Message-ID: <6300eli$9712101519@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) Subject: RP Estragon's Aunt Paula 5/5 femdom Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <19971210163900.LAA10039@ladder01.news.aol.com> A RP in deserved appreciation of the author, who is not the reposter (me). Estragon can be reached through RGT@well.com (comment welcome, but no requests for missing parts please). His stories are all archived courtesy of Mule at http://www.tpe.com/ÿ7EMule Travels with Aunt Paula by Estragon was originally posted in six parts, each with an epigraph. I am preserving all of the original headnotes, but this reposting is in *five* parts, this one 5/5. Several weeks passed. Cal had to ask for permission to masturbate many times during this period. Aunt Paula always granted it, requiring only that Cal ejaculate in such a way that his semen would land on some part of his body. Then he had to return to her naked and stand at attention while the plashy places slowly trickled. Sometimes, whether it was lesson-day or not, Paula would use the occasion to give Cal a lecture. The theme was always the same now. The importance of sacrifice. His semen was a sacrifice, she explained, a gift a male offered to a female to show her that his very substance belonged to her. But it was her gift to him - her sacrifice of time and attention - to allow him the privilege of making this offering. So an even greater gift, an even greater sacrifice, a man might make to a girl or woman was another kind of wetness. In his tears a man conveyed the fullness of his gratitude and the willingness of his pain. "A boy may not understand how much it can mean to a girl to see him hurt for her. You saw how even your Aunt Paula's eyes got wet that day to see you cry. Yes, partly it was sympathy for you and sorrow, but partly - oh, Cal, I know this is hard to understand, but please, please try - partly it was joy. Joy in seeing my total power over you, so effortless and yet so deep, joy in seeing your beauty as you yielded, as you accepted your destiny as a man. In a way, Cal, a boy can be beautiful too, though maybe a better word is 'brave'. Imagine, my sweetheart, what that joy is like when a girl feels it for the first time in her life. Imagine how wonderful it is for a little girl, or even an adolescent, to see a boy's tears and know that she is the cause of them - her acts, her hands, her will." "I think I can imagine, auntie. I don't know. I mean, it can't be anything like what I feel." "No, my dear, of course not. You have to imagine it. Perhaps you can't. But you've seen many, many times how girls (even girls a lot bigger than you) enjoy it when you undress for them. They love to see your penis and testicles just hanging there in full view, because, for a girl, the fact that they're just out there like that means that you have no choice but to show them. And when you were smaller and got a little erection for them, they thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. Aunt Paula has wanted you to get used to such things, and you have, my darling, you wonderfully have. "But for some girls this isn't an everyday matter. They don't get to see that many well-behaved, cooperative boys. So when they do get the chance, they're fascinated. Somewhere inside they feel that a thing they've alwaysuspected is true - they see it in your naked penis and your sweet, helpless little balls - they see how vulnerable you are, how fragile and, yes, Cal, yes, this is what it's all about, I'm afraid - they see how very easy you are to hurt. You and I and many grown-up ladies, we take this for granted, but you have to remember that lots of younger girls don't - even if their mothers wish them to. Girls without brothers or boy-cousins...or respectful friends like you. Cal, you can't believe how wonderful it is for a girl to make a boy cry for her by doing the things I've done to you. By doing even a few of them - because, you know, there's something in girls that makes them shy, something that makes them hesitate to use their power. "Aunt Paula was a lucky girl. I had a boy, the big brother of one of my friends, as matter of fact, who used to undress for me and kneel in front of me and truly beg me to prod and squeeze his testicles. And I WAS shy at first, believe me. I was so young I don't think I was even having periods yet. But this boy squirmed and pleaded and even, well, cried: one day, without so much as asking my permission, he just ripped off his clothes and begged me with tears in his eyes to punish him. I was four years younger than he was and had no idea what to do. I was even afraid of his big penis and balls, and all the hair around them really put me off. I told him honestly that I didn't want to touch his bushy things, and you know what he did, Cal? Right away? He said, 'Come with me,' and he pulled me to the bathroom and had me watch while he covered himself in lather and shaved off every last wisp. He looked as if he'd been skinned, all bare and raw from the razor. I loved it. His testicles looked the way yours do, Cal, the way yours always will, too, if you shave them once you get pubic hair. So unprotected and slack. Just asking to be terrorized. I squeezed him, I slapped him, I made him kneel, I did other things. He was so grateful, but the fact is, I owe that boy a lot. Now I want other young girls to have the same advantages." Paula beckoned Cal toward her and drew the naked boy into her arms. She gave him an earnest hug. "And, because of what's happened between us," she said, "I know that I can give this to girls, with the help of my wonderful nephew." One day, some weeks after this conversation - school was out for the summer now - Aunt Paula called Cal to her studio, where he found her in the company of a very pretty teenage girl whose long dark hair struck Cal as exceptionally womanly for someone so young. Paula introduced her as Lia, the daughter of a dear friend, one of her professors at college, on the west coast. Lia's father lived nearby and Lia had come to spend the summer with him. Cal hadn't expected a female guest, but he was quick to recover from the surprise. He opened his pants and lifted up his shirt. "Do you know why, Cal?" Paula's tone was patronizing - for the girl's sake, Cal thought. "Do I know why what, auntie?" "Do you know why Lia has come all this way to spend the summer?" "Her dad, didn't you say?" Cal was undoing his pants now and Lia turned her head away politely. Could she be embarrassed? She looked completely together in her sleeveless shirt and snug jeans; her high-heeled sneakers, Cal knew, were the latest thing. But she was young after all, and shy, and Cal thought he understood why Paula was asking him that question. He wanted desperately to summon back Lia's attention as he shimmied his pants toward his ankles: "No," he wanted to exclaim, "don't look away. This is for you to see." Of course he kept still. Cal concentrated on undressing. He bent over to remove his shoes and socks so that he could climb out of his pants. He could sense the girl's discomfort even then. He understood that she must feel like an intruder. This bending and unlacing and pulling took a while and was strangely intimate. Cal was used to undressing like this in the presence of females and he did it now without self-consciousness. Not mechanically, of course, for desire and danger and instinctual shame always attended the process, coloring his skin and badgering his heart. But Paula had taught him that even these things were simply part of the natural drama of being a boy. They were the rule, not the exception, and Cal learned to expose them to "ladies" as easily he did his boyish body. To Lia, however, he thought he must look as natural and unhurried as if he were undressing in private. (Paula's work too: "You are not putting on a show," she would repeatedly explain. "You're simply showing ladies what you're really like.") Of course she would feel ill-at-ease. Aunt Paula interrupted Cal when he was down to his shorts. "Stop there, darling," she said. "Lia and I are going to have a chat." Cal understood. He picked up his clothes. Lia shifted uneasily and withheld her glance. "Pleased to have met you, ma'am," Cal said. It took the girl a moment to realize that it was she he was addressing. "Oh, yes," Lia said, perforce looking his way and getting immediately flustered for her pains. "My pleasure too, that is,...Cal." Aunt Paula and Lia talked privately together for a long time. For so long that Cal began to wonder if the girl's visit did have anything to do with him after all. He had to admit he hoped so. Back in his room, in his shorts, Cal let himself imagine once again experiencing the shocking assault, the sweet, cramp-ridden devastation, his aunt had taught him to love, but this time at the hands of a beautiful teenager who would be tasting her rightful power for the first time. His penis swelled in his shorts. Aunt Paula had impressed upon him the need girls have to make boys cry. Cal wondered if shy, polite Lia would be capable of reducing him to tears. He devoutly wished it, but he could only meet the girl half way. He couldn't fake it. Break me, Lia, he prayed, and I will fly, choking, into your arms as I did into my Aunt Paula's, burying my face in your womanly hair, soaking the sweet-smelling strands with my tears. Paula must be instructing the girl right now, he thought. She must be covering every detail. Maybe Lia has ideas of her own and is presenting them for his aunt's approval. Or maybe she's having cold feet. Cal's heart didn't have time to sink at this thought because Paula was finally calling to him from the studio. Cal raced to his aunt, a flapping erection still visible in his shorts. Aunt Paula and Lia were standing. Lia smiled nervously at Cal. He noticed that his aunt was holding the pair of bamboo sticks, about to turn them over to the teenager, who was already in possession of the thin black belt. Lia held the snaky object awkwardly, as though she were afraid it might come to life. "Yes, Aunt Paula?" Cal said. His aunt motioned the boy to be still. Planting her hands on Lia's shoulders, Paula gently urged the hesitant girl toward Cal. "Lia, my dear, Cal is all yours," she said. "I've told you how much I love him and how proud he has made me in the past. Go with him to his room and let him show you why. Don't be afraid. You're a woman, Lia. Believe me, you are. And Cal is a worshipful boy. You saw how willing he was to undress for you. That was only the beginning. Ask anything of him. Cal wants to deliver...wants...and needs...to sacrifice. But he IS a boy, and you must help him do the thing he needs. Bring him to tears if you can and he will touch your heart. I've taught him to be brave. But I've made him strong, Lia, only so that you can be stronger. He exists to show you your power. Meet his courage with your own." Paula put the bamboo weapons into Lia's hand, closed the girl's unsteady fingers around their harmless threaded ends and turned decisively away. end end RP5/5 Vickie Tern@AOL.COM -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |