My stepsister June was very angry. I'd confessed to her that I had shoplifted a rock T-shirt from the Spencer's in the local mall. We had these confession times once a week, after she gave me a light maintenance spanking, nude over her lap, and I was getting good at holding nothing back, once I was in the headspace that the spanking put me in. But she was incensed. My shoplifting habit had been gone for a year. I was doing well at my new job, and had not had a public bladder incident without a pad or shield in months.

Normally after or during the confession time, she would have me on my back on the couch, applying diaper cream and a large adult diaper--I wear them almost 100% of the time at home, because it makes my ocasionnal wetting much easier to deal with. But this time the diaper cream was still closed beside me on the couch. She had pushed much closer to me such that my feet were on her shoulders as she stood in front of the couch. I felt like I was about to get fucked, but instead she had my balls in her hand. I felt the too-firm grip and everything but the pain and her voice, and her face looming above me seemed to fade out.

"I am going to have to punish you. This is a serious relapse and we're going to nip it in the bud, aren't we, Kullen? It's getting hard to think of creative new ways to destroy your ass, so I may have to resort to humiliation. Let me think a moment.

"Yes, I know what I'll do. I'm calling three friends over, and they're going to watch me punish you."

"No!"

"Did you say 'No' to me, little bitch? I'll have you _screaming_ 'No' by the end of the night and I'll do it anyways."

Three hours later her friends, three other grad students, were sitting on the couch. One was taking notes, a heavier, plain-faced blonde with glasses. Another was watching intently, a very pretty Latina woman in a little dress, and the third, a nice-looking girl with blond hair and red lipstick, had her hands in her lap in a way that told me she was subtly touching herself.

I was on my hands and knees with my ass facing them. June spread my cheeks and invited them to inspect me. "Filthy little asshole. He doesn't wipe well enough."

My face flushed harder than it ever has before.

"Yes, and what an ugly color," the first girl remarked.

"He wears adult diapers around the house and pads in public due to his urge incontinence. I suspect the cause is psychological rather than physical, though I'm not a qualified physician. He is not fully infantilized, but I find regular spankings and a maternal-surrogate relationships effective in managing his poor impulse control, laziness and antisocial tendencies. I spank him both by hand and with instruments, and have used small soapy enemas in the past."

"Fascinating. Would you say there is anything Oedipal about the client's pathology?"

"Well, he desires me carnally, and as I say, I am both a maternal figure and a family member, as his stepmother's daughter. Beyond that I can't say, as his mother has been deceased for ten years."

I blanched, barely thinking of the surprising word "client." I thought of that time I had ejaculated while she gripped my cock between her thighs after a spanking in her lap. It was true. I realized suddenly that I loved June and did desire her body very much, her elegant curving thighs, small breasts and commanding face with thin, unkind lips. I wanted to wipe that sneer of command off her face with my cock, freed from a diaper and pounding deep into her innermost places. I put my legs together so they couldn't see my slight erection.

"What punishment are you going to employ now?"

"I threatened him before with figging and caning. This is insertion of a ginger plug into the anus to enhance the sensation of a spanking with a thin piece of rattan. He will be required to be still, and the ginger will prevent him from clenching in preparation for each blow."

"Is this extreme?"

"Not for his antisocial behavior. Petty theft. He has already consented."

I felt dubious about that, but whatever. I accepted that I was about to be turned red and orange with the thin rod that she had threatened me with in the past. I had had a buttplug with toothpaste on it inserted into me before, and imagined the ginger would be similar.

Next she did something I couldn't see behind me, which sounded like peeling the ginger root. I heard her spit in her hand and suddenly she was rubbing saliva onto the outside of my asshole before... oh, god. This did not feel good. She had pushed the stiff, wet plug of root into me.

Burning did not start immediately, but slowly, like halogen lights warming up and beginning to shine brighter and brighter. Suddenly there was a crisp, paradoxical cold burning all around inside there. I clenched my cheeks and found that it was immediately doubled in intensity. Every breath that I let move my body renewed the burning to a stable level.

And then without warning the stroke came. It was as if a string soaked in gasoline had been ignited against the flesh of my thighs right at the crease where legs become ass. No hesitation, perfect aim--that was June.

I clenched in preparation for the next stroke and found that I doubled and trippled the burning by squeezing down on the ginger. I unclenched and as soon as I did the fire striped across my unprepared ass again-- the second stroke, much higher than the first, right at about the center of mass of my asscheeks. The burning of the ginger came back up as the fat wiggled subtly in the same moment.

I yelped.

"Be silent."

Suddenly a pair of very curvy legs came into view. The first girl, with the glasses, crouched down in front of me. "You've been very bad, haven't you, Kullen? Do you feel remorse?"

I clenched again and managed to stay clenched as the stroke of the cane fell, though the burning became excruciating.

"Yes, ma'am," I said at last.

"After you get what you deserve are you going to be good for us?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, on the verge of tears. I finally managed not to clench or anticipate the next stroke at all, which made it so much more startling and agonizing.

"You'd better. June, can I help you diaper him after his punishment?"

"You can do it all if you'd like. Would you like to give him his last four whacks?"

"No, I don't feel as if I have the temperament to cause such extreme pain. Perhaps one of our other colleagues?"

"I will," an accented voice from the couch said.

"Be my guest."

The second woman's technique was very different. She laid the cane on me gently, avoiding the areas where I already had raised welts, then drew it back several times and hesitated each time, as if wishing to strike with perfect aim. Then, with no warning she hit me in another place, where I was not ready. The ginger burned and my ass felt like the skin was peeled clear off.

She gave me another quick stroke and another, then finally seemed to hesitate again. As if played like a fiddle, I clenched a little and quickly unclenched to stop the burning of the ginger. She hit me hard where I was already sore and the tears came all at once.

"Stand up," my step-sister said.

I did, slowly.

She yanked the ginger from my ass and threw it in a nearby wastebasket. "Turn around."

I did, blushing. The three ladies and June all saw my cock, a little swollen and with a bead of pee about to drip off onto the carpet.

Suddenly the third girl, who had not yet spoken where I could hear her, stood up and caught it with her finger, the tip and then the nail brushing the head of my cock, which quickly swelled up a little more. "Silly, silly," she said.

I didn't need to be prompted to lay a towel down on the couch and get on my back on it.

The lady with glasses came over. "Hmm, I can't diaper him while he's hard like that, can I?"

"Just jerk him off, then?" June said.

"I don't know that it would be appropriate."

"Tish tosh," June said. "The humiliation of a forced handjob can be part of his punishment."

"I'll do it, the third girl said. She positioned herself in front of me with my legs on her shoulders and began to jerk quite firmly but with an increasing tenderness. She made eye contact.

"Just breathe," she said. With her free hand she touched one of the welts the cane had made. She ran her nail along it very gently. The renewed pain was not extreme, but it was a little sharp. Somehow between the pain and the vulnerability of my position and the blue eyes staring into mine with no expression, I came very hard a moment later, all on my chest and stomach.

"There, there, silly."

She stepped away and the lady with the glasses came up with a rag and started mopping up the semen. She gently flipped my dick down to lay on my balls. Then she got the tube of zinc cream. June had bought it for me and used on me several times, but I'd never used it for myself when diapered at home. It felt too strange between my asscheeks.

I could feel this lady's eyes playing over my privates, all exposed between my raised legs. "Do you apply the cream everywhere or just between the cheeks?" she asked June.

"It doesn't matter, it's more for the humiliation of feeling it between the cheeks. I don't think he gets diaper rash."

She laid it on much thicker than I had, a big line of it over my asshole. Then with surprising strength she pushed my cheeks together for a moment. Then, spreading them again, she spread the cream around with her thumb. It always feels kind of like I'd shit myself... but the residual pain from the ginger

"Rear up," she said, taking a diaper and opening it. I obliged, and shortly she was putting the diaper under me and adjusting it.

"Legs down."

I let my legs relax a little and she closed the diaper and taped me in.

"Very good." She smiled at me in a way I could not decipher.

June helped me to my feet and handed me my bathrobe. "Your punishment is over. Are you going to be good now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright. I'd like to formally introduce you to some friends of mine. I've gotten admitted into a psychology masters program with an emphasis in sex therapy, and these are some of my classmates. They were very interested that I already practiced BDSM-based therapy with you. For the time being they're going to keep it our little secret, but eventually for appearances we may need to transition you into formal BDSM therapy with one of them. Conflict of interest, you understand?"

I blushed.

The three ladies all looked at me and surprisingly, there was no malice or sense of revulsion in their faces. I realized that I was not by far the only person like me they'd seen, nor by any means the worst off. I smiled at them, and they smiled back at me. Later I learned that their names were Sandra Mixon, Bela Iglesias and Millie McChief, but it was much later that I found out which one was to take over my case...