Worlds Unknown: Penis Envy


by 7th Son <Jihanr@hotmail.com>

The Austrian Father of Psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud, named it penis envy. My sister Rehan had it, nay, admitted having it, and in a priori conclusion, she had reasons to want me naked.

I was a late bloomer and at three months shy of sixteen, my body had only begun to develop. I had a penis that was almost two and a half inches when flaccid, and at the best of times, grew two more when aroused. By her own admission, Rehan envied my brothers' penises; to be specific she envied their potency and the miraculous prowess of the shaft to extend itself so completely imperceptibly. If penis envy could be clinically graduated, her complex must rate within the top ten at any psychiatric hospital. As for me, at least twice a week, she must call me to her bedchamber and remove all my clothes to observe while my shaft extended for her. But she always laughed mockingly at my little man.

As a closet gay adolescent, I was fearful of discovery by my father and mother. It wasn't so much fear for myself, and what they would do to me if the truth were known, as for them and what the knowledge could do to them. I loved my parents dearly, and would protect them with my life. But the truth of my own life would never be able to protect them from shame, dishonor and humiliation.

And so when my oldest half sisters, Rehan, Shehnaz and Xinli, discovered my _s_e_x_uality, they blackmailed me for almost two years. Although it must be beneath contempt to offer up one's body in exchange for decent behavior, my stepsisters and I had entered into a categorical agreement the previous year. If they kept their mouths shut and my secret safe, I would submit my body to them for a variety of their vagarious uses no matter how humiliating and degrading they were. Rehan proved the most brutal of the girls, with a boundless imagination that was obtuse to the words 'desolate' and 'wilderness'.

I had returned home from school one evening to find a post-it tacked onto the wall of my chamber beside Mother's framed needlepoint text, 'Make the Most of Your Time'. The message was simple and ominous for its simplicity. "Be at my chamber as soon as you get this - R.," it said. I scrunched up the note and discarded it into the wastebasket. I plopped onto my bed and shut my eyes. It was 4 P. M., and sleep experts had said that this was the best time for a REM sleep. Besides, it was my naptime, too, and Mother had insisted that I took a daily half-hour dose of it. And I was much too tired from a very productive day at school, given that it had been sports' day, to care about silly girls' eccentricities and problems with their self-image.

I was dreaming about Etienne, the captain of my school's swimming team. I had been admiring him since I started to use the common shower rooms when I was urged to try out for the swim team. In my dream, Etienne was naked and showering in the open. Just as he gave me a wink, I felt something painful about my ear. I awoke screeching. Rehan's face was murderous and crimson above me. She pulled me up by my ear and yanked me from my bed. Dragging me across the room, while I was protesting and yelling, my victorious stepsister soon had us both in her chamber. Now she could show off her importance on her turf.

"Didn't you get my message?" she asked, flinging me onto her bed. She studied me with a glare that bore deeply into my soul, so that I couldn't lie.

I nodded my head.

"But you chose to ignore it to your own undoing?" she interrogated, picking me up and standing me in front of her while she sat down on the round bed.

I trembled at the hard edge in her voice and the merciless tone of her interrogation. My fingers flew to my crotch because I knew this region was in grave danger and I started reflexively to twist a bit of the fabric of my trousers there around my fingers. I barely felt my own genitals under the fabric and was reminded that very soon they would be exposed to my stepsister. The fabric had also become caught around my fingers as these nervously continued to twist it around them.

"I believe I just asked you a question," Rehan said, continuing her taunting.

"I was tired, R," I answered. "I needed to sleep."

"Right," she nodded her head sinisterly, "you deliberately chose not to show polite attention to my message. It is to your own undoing then. You know, little boy, we had an agreement that was binding."

Rehan's hands reached out to me and started to remove all my clothes. I cringed away from her but received a mighty smack on my bottom in reply. When my half sister had finally pulled my pants to my ankles, she grasped the top of my boy-knickers and peeled them down to my knees. Leaving my knickers there for now, she took my three-inch and held it around her curled-up long fingers. She lowered her nose down to my organ and took a sniff of it.

"It's sticky, and smelly," she commented. "Obviously you hadn't bathed before your nap. Now, get on the bed."

I obeyed. What else could I do since she had my defenseless vulnerability in her tight grip?

"Throw up your legs," she commanded, as soon as I had lain down on her bed.

I obeyed this next command as meek as the beatific, throwing my legs into the air. My loose cotton pants, which Rehan had chosen to leave around my ankles, slipped back downward to my thighs.

Rehan removed my pants and then rolled my knickers away from my knees. After that, she ordered me to spread my thighs wide. I spread my legs apart and balanced them as still as I could in the air, feeling my face flush something coal-hot at how I must look to an observer. Rehan stepped back a bit and studied me in this completely humiliating posture. After I had spent about three minutes of posing thus for the camera of my sister's eyes, which now seemed dilated, she approached me on the bed and knelt at my exposed bottom. She held my legs by their ankles, still keeping them apart.

"Make yourself hard," she ordered as she set the timer on her digital wristwatch.

Having done this for her many times before, and needing no further instructions, I gathered my own penis in my fingers and pumped away vigorously.

When my penis had grown to an unimpressive four and a half inches, Rehan checked her watch.

"That took four minutes and eighteen seconds," she told me, "that's a minute and three seconds longer than last week."

While I was amazed at Rehan's photographic memory, for how astonishingly well she could remember such infinitesimal details as how long it took me to become erect last week, I had also rolled my eyes northward to the ceiling at her stupidity. I wanted to say that, of course, I would take longer to be aroused today because I was still feeling sleepy and now also annoyed that she had interrupted me from what was a potential wet dream. Etienne, I thought to myself regretfully, and then I wanted to strangle Rehan to death, too, for my hands were that close to her swanlike neck. She had no idea how vulnerable she was to me now. But then there was our father to think about. I instantly curbed my dangerous tendency toward fratricide.

Rehan let my legs drop now and commanded me next to wank myself to an orgasm. She had reset the timer.

There was a knock on the door, and her full sister Shehnaz walked in. She immediately giggled to see me on the bed, completely naked and masturbating myself.

"Did I miss much?" she asked, tossing aside her backpack and then flopping herself down at my legs. She stared hard at my right-hand fingers around my nude penis, and my left-hand middle finger inside my anus. That had always been my routine when I was self-gratifying.

But suddenly I was starting to enjoy myself, and I was groaning and moaning loudly. My body was twisting about on the mattress while I pumped away on my urgency. I gradually lost myself to my own private world and that of Etienne and my amorous boyfriend Ky and my First Brother Mishka, and all four of us were now all over each other as we engaged in an orgy of _s_e_x_, love making and drinking up each other's juices. I completely forgot that anyone was watching me. Nor did I hear my sisters' giggling at me.

"Aaarggghhh!" I screamed, as my semen spurted from my slit and splattered back onto my chest and stomach. I was sighing and salivating while I imagined the warmth of the precious seed that was being spilled onto me, belonging to any one of my fantasy protagonists.

"Eighteen minutes," Rehan told her sister.

When I opened my eyes, I found Rehan beside me. She had thrown off all her clothes, but as to when she had done this, I was not conscious. Her pointed exposed nipple was poking my facial cheek. Her silken pubic hair tickled my ribcage. Then she started to stroke my own pubic hair and edged her hand toward my penis. She held it. I grimaced from the tenderness of it under her rough handling.

"I'd give anything to be able to trade my vagina for a penis," she purred although I wondered if she had meant for me to hear her. It was not usual of Rehan to let down her guard so readily and reveal her needs, which then meant revealing her vulnerability.

All of a sudden, I had a tacit fear that my stepsister might put my penis into her mouth. She had never done this hitherto, despite the numerous times she had made me masturbate in her presence. She had to have been tempted even then. But this time, it was different. This time she was lying naked right beside me with my organ in her grip. My heart pounded fearfully against my chest. I felt myself trembling. My body stiffened and arched when she went on to glide her hand over my palpitating chest, scything her sharp nails into my flesh, and then she came on top of me. She was about to impale herself on me. I gasped from the surprise of her movement and all my muscles started to strain against her naked body to get her off me.

Rehan suddenly rolled onto the bed and laughed. She had gracelessly spread apart her thighs to expose her wet kernel. Her long clitoris suspended between her open vulva lips like a singular malicious cusp. Her laughing vagina voiced credence to my material inadequacy.

About this time, frightful images of my ugliness lurked in the nightmarish corners of my imagination. I raised myself up, simultaneously cursing Rehan and her ill-timed mockery. I started to cry, ashamed of my impaired development, and fell quickly into my clothes.

Almost reaching my bedchamber, I ran into my oldest half brother, Mishka. He saw my tears and queried me. I screamed resentfully that I hated his maverick sisters.

I had thrown myself onto my bed. Like the little sissy I had been accused of being, I wept into my pillows for what my penis was worth. Sigmund Freud had overlooked the observation that penis envy was not in a woman's domain alone. I remembered now the many times Father had lined up his boys for a spanking, and the taunting my stepsisters had given me about my little man. I remembered the pride that showed on my stepbrothers' faces to be stripped to expose their penises, which all outmatched mine by a good two or three inches in size. Until the girls' mockery of me, I had lived under the illusion that I possessed an enviable anatomy!

At suppertime, I had not recovered enough to make a showing. I knew Father was going to be cross. In my father's house, observing the tradition of dining together was as sacred as the dining set was opulent.

Sure enough, Father had me summoned for an audience with him although the hour was late. I stood before Father in his Study. He had been busily engaged in a discussion of a confidential business level with First Brother, Mishka, but sent him away on my account.

"I had missed you at supper," Father said kindly. "If you were unwell, you ought to have informed me. I can tell you're unwell, but it's not physical. It's your heart and soul, isn't it? Like it or not, we're going to talk about it now."

Our conversation was clearly heading in the wrong direction. The last thing I needed was to tell Father that his daughter had attempted incestuous carnal knowledge with me, only to leave me with a damaged self-image by changing her mind because my little man was not going to pleasure her. Now sometimes, under duress of immense pressure, such as now, my Trojan Horse would seek me and rescue me. I flew into Father's lap and sank my head on his shoulder. "Please, Papa, don't make me tell you. I can't!" I pleaded desperately, releasing my little-boy tears.

But my old formula for evading a conflict failed me this time. Trojan galloped away before my eyes.

Father's next poser so shook me that I felt myself quaking on his lap.

"You will tell me why you failed to come for supper," Father scolded me. "You're getting a spanking for this in any case, but before that, I want to know what's wrong. Mishka told me you might have had a fight with your sisters. You had told him you despised them. I will not tolerate the use of unkind words toward your own siblings. If they were the reason you skipped supper, and you know very well how I feel about that, I want to know what it was that they did to you."

Father was now holding me by my shoulders. Since Father started spanking me, I had always associated this gesture with censure and disapproval. I knew he meant business. But his poser had rendered me dumbfounded and afraid. My emotional landscape was disarrayed and left me meandering there for a while. I looked down on Father's hand. I reached out and played with the jade ring on his finger. Finally I looked up at him. His face was full of tenderness and reassurance. How could I not confess and feel safe?

"They laughed at me," I said at last.

"Laughed at you for what reason?" Father asked.

"They implied I have a small one," I said vaguely.

"And what brought this on?" Father asked again.

"Nothing, Papa," I pleaded, "they've seen me before many times. That's all. And it's true: I do have a small one."

Father put his hand on the back of my head and held it for a long time. "Take off all your clothes, your underwear included," he suddenly ordered me.

I obeyed quickly to avoid having to answer anymore questions. I didn't want to be put in a position that would compel me to disclose that my stepsisters and I had been regularly engaged in _s_e_x_ual indiscretion. I stood up and removed my tunic and pants and then my knickers, and then dispatched all of my garments into Father's open hands. He folded them and placed them on the commode beside him. I stood in front of him naked.

Father studied my body approvingly. He took my penis in his palm and inspected that more closely. He maneuvered it expertly and it extended on his palm. It had measured five inches long in his palm, half more than it had been able to perform for Rehan. He turned me around and I felt his fingers parting my bottom cheeks to probe around my anus. Nothing more happened to me. He sat me back down on his lap again, replacing his tender hand on the back of my head.

In the next half an hour, he embarked on a convoluted lecture about the sanctity of the human body and the rates of growth that were different for everybody.

"You have a God-given endowment," he concluded finally, "so be grateful for it. You also have an intelligence to know what is true and what is false. Don't ever let your confidence and image be measured by notions of what are perceived as the norms. Norms are not necessarily right. Norms are fallible human beings' ideals of beauty. Don't be ashamed of yourself. I am not ashamed of you; you're still growing up and the inadequacy you have just described having is a normal fear of growing up. However, I do not approve of your deed. It was disrespectful to be absent for supper, and you do deserve to be spanked for that. But I'm spanking you, not only for your disrespect, but also to take away your bad feelings about yourself. Are you clear about this, son?"

I nodded.

"All right," he ordered me, "over my lap, now."

I positioned my body over Father's knees and was immediately spanked. Father was as harsh as usual, as harsh as I was used to. I deserved the punishment and he gave me what he deemed was more than adequate for my moral correction and emotional restoration.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

At the end, Father gathered me into his arms and let me sob in his chest. But I felt relieved and deluged with gratitude for Father. I had also heard First Brother Mishka enter the Study at the start of my spanking. Now I turned towards him and stole a glance at him. He was watching me silently. He looked puzzled too. He seemed curious to know why I had been spanked, but in deference to me, Father had chosen to keep my confession in his confidence. Mishka must resign himself to hoping that I would tell him myself. I had already made up my mind to do just that.

Realizing that he needed to resume his discussion with Mishka, Father dismissed me to my nurse but only after he had made her promise to use extra soothing cream on my bottom tonight. She kept her promise to my father.

As I retired to my chamber still naked, my bottom polished to a new redness and smarting, I implored Father: "Papa, could Mishka keep me company tonight? I need his company."

Father relaxed his rules and nodded. First Brother threw me a knowing wink.

Rehan did not get over her penis envy even after she started to attend medical college two years later. Six years thence, she became seriously involved with a man, an obstetrics surgeon, who hailed from a prominent family from a neighboring province. Together, they set up a social unit that resembled marriage but had yet to get that certificate. Although short of marital coupling, theirs was nevertheless a good arrangement because my brothers and I were kept a safe distance from Rehan. Rehan would henceforth channel her complex toward her defacto.

As for me, I did overcome my own inadequacy. I enjoyed a growth spurt in the two months leading to my sixteenth birthday, and by the time I was seventeen, my penis had become much longer and fatter. No longer was I a little man. Why, I had even caught Etienne secretly comparing his six-inch with my six and a half that time when we stood side by side at the urinals.

THE END


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