Shoc Treatment

Authors note:

***READER ALERT***

THIS IS A STORY IN INSTALMENTS ABOUT INCEST BETWEEN CONSENTING ADULTS. IN PARTICULAR A GRANDMOTHER AND HER 18 YEAR OLD GRANDSON. IF YOU ARE LIKELY TO BE OFFENDED PLEASE STOP READING HERE.

PLEASE LEAVE A RATING TO ENCOURAGE ME TO COMPLETE THE TALE.

*****

Chapter 1

It was a warm evening in early July and I had just landed at Exeter airport in the west of England.

I held on tight as my grandmother screeched the tyres on the exit ramp, accelerating through the gears onto the highway. With the roof down it was difficult to hear what she said over the noise of the slipstream.

"Of course we spoke at length about it but in the end she agreed to leave all the arrangements to me. After all these years you know me well enough not to faff about!" she shouted.

"Shouldn't you slow down Nan?" I shouted back.

Her face broke into a broad smile, "Not frightened are you?"

I grinned back, shaking my head.

I was with my mother's mother, 'Nan Jennifer' as I had always known her. The open red sports car was typical of her flamboyance. And I loved her for it.

"I think we need to set a few ground rules Peter, before the holiday begins," she shouted.

"OK Nan!" I yelled back.

"First of all, no more of this 'Nan' nonsense. You're 18 years old and a man, so you call me 'Jen', 'Jenny' or 'Jinny', anything else and you pay a forfeit."

She turned to look at my response but I couldn't make out her eyes through her stylish shades.

"Jenny it is then," I said, beaming a smile back at her. She nodded approval, returning her eyes to the road, her silk headscarf fluttering in the slipstream.

"Secondly, you can go back home at any time you aren't enjoying yourself. Cliff Cottage isn't a prison camp!"

Again I nodded my agreement.

"And thirdly, well that's it really, there is no third rule." Again she beamed a smile.

I then settled into the journey to her remote cliff top cottage on the craggy Cornish Coast.

But we hadn't gone more than a couple of miles when she swung the car into a lay-by, pulled on the handbrake and took out the ignition keys.

Nan looked every inch the former photographic model that she was. Taking off her sunglasses and headscarf she shook her long platinum-silver hair and flipped the keys over to me.

"It's yours for the duration of the visit," she grinned, "think you can handle it?"

I'd passed my driving test just after my 17th birthday and felt reasonably competent in the family cars, but this monster was new territory for me.

"If a woman can drive it I guess I can Nan," I said.

"We'll see?" she said knowingly, "there's no power steering and you have to drive it into corners rather than braking, otherwise she's still a bitch to handle, but an exciting bitch."

She turn to me and with a mock scowl said, "That 'Nan' earned you your first forfeit Peter. Forfeits must be honoured the same night as the crime!"

Before we set off again we raised the roof, checked my rucksack was secure on the rear rack and generally kicked the tyres.

"You'll need to fill her up in another 50 miles or so, but don't worry I'll pay all the petrol costs for your visit" she reassured me.

Nan settled herself in the passenger seat while I familiarised myself with the control layout before. we set off again into the rapidly setting sun.

She was dressed in a tight fitting grey dress with a black belt. But in the tight space of the car her hem rode up her legs, revealing the pink tops of silk stockings and the slightest hint of a suspender belt.

When I first spotted the straps of her suspender belt my prick stiffened and had to discretely adjust my trousers. From then I glanced down at her legs whenever the road allowed. Each time I thought about her stocking tops I felt a glow of sexual anticipation in my prick.

I estimated she was then in her late 60s or early 70s, yet with her slender figure and faultless skin she looked fifty-something. I thought her beautiful, smart and very sexy. I doubt there was but one in every thousand women who had aged so well.

We weren't a poor family by any stretch of the imagination. Both mum and Dad were successful professionals, dad a top lawyer, mum a doctor and consultant gynaecologist.

We lived together very comfortably in a rambling Georgian house within easy commute distance of London.

In turn I had my own generous allowance and a great future awaited me.

My final school exams had gone well, earning me a place at a top University, but I still had a couple of months to while away before I started reading business law.

Nevertheless I did have my share of personal problems to overcome before going to university, specifically chronic shyness and a terror of girls. Gynophobia I believe is the correct term.

I suspect it was my mother's hope that after a couple of months exposed to her mother's steam roller personality, some of it would rub off on me.

I also suspected my grandmother was in on their game - the sports car her opening move.

The car was not such a bitch to handle as she had warned and the miles began to roll away with the setting sun. With the roof down the wind noise was much less and we were able to talk without shouting.

"When are your mother and father flying out Peter?" My grandmother asked.

"They flew to Italy this afternoon, at the moment they expect to be away at least a week" I said.

"So no one at home even if you get pissed off with my company?"

"Only the house sitter and she wouldn't welcome me disturbing her love nest with her boyfriend."

Night had fallen as we skirted the Dartmoor National Park heading down the A38 towards Plymouth.

From time to time I glanced across at my wonderful grandmother and thought myself so lucky to spend quality time sharing her world.

Whenever I thought she wasn't looking a took another look at her glorious legs and silk stockings. I'd always loved being with her for as long as I could remember.

We filled up the car with fuel in Ivybridge at a 24 hour supermarket filling station. Half an hour later we spotted a fish and chip shop and bought the last couple of fish and a pile of chips just before it closed for the night.

We sat in the car sharing the fish supper and a bottle of diet coke. It was one of those magical warm evenings and the moment felt very special and intimate to me.

Then my grandmother broke the spell.

"I'd feel better laying all my cards on the table Peter. I'm not one for beating around the bush. My daughter did ask me to help you overcome some of your fears before starting out on your life path." She licked her fingers and turned to look me in the eye.

"But you're a smart guy, so I guess you already figured that out?"

I nodded, enjoyed the last couple of chips then screwed up the paper before winding down the window and tossing it into a waste bin.

"It wasn't difficult, we haven't spent any meaningful length of time together since I was about 10 years old. Then all of a sudden here I am."

"That was my fault, I was away so much on business - my time in the country never seemed to coincide with your term holidays."

The air became a little chilled between us. "Look, if you're not okay with this just say so and we'll just treat this as a family holiday. My word on it," she added seriously.

"And if I agree with the idea what then?"

"Then you do everything I ask of you without question, if you do, I promise I'll do everything I can to make you feel more comfortable around women. But you must always be open and truthful with me. Who knows, you might even enjoy it!"

I studied her face. I had always loved and trusted 'Nan' Jennifer. In many ways she was a hero to me. For a couple of years she had worked as a TV actor, appearing in episodes of 'Holby City', 'The Bill' and a handful of British prime time soaps. Cast always as an ageing beauty with a shady criminal background, her sexy appearances gave me a lot of street cred at school, raising my esteem among friends and teachers.

I trusted her, and probably loved her more than my mother.

"It's a deal Nan," I said before I could check my mouth, then offered my hand for her to shake.

"That is if you promise to do the same. If I ask you something you must answer honestly and in full?"

After thinking for a couple of seconds she put her hand on the dashboard she said in mock seriousness, "I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

Then in typical style she spat on her hand and proffered it to me, nodding for me to do the same.

So we sealed the agreement in spit.

But I was aware I now had two forfeits to repay before the end of the day.

"The treatment starts here Peter. So tell me what you think of my stockings? I saw you ogling them, your tongue was almost touching the floor?" She beamed me a smile that touched my soul.

"I think they look so sexy Jen, I've never seen them close up in real life before, mother always wears tights!" I blurted out.

"Did you wear them for me?" I asked.

"Not really Peter, I always wear stockings with suspenders but I have to confess I did hitch my skirt up so you could see them."

"Why?" I asked in amazement.

"To check you weren't queer - simple as that!" she said frankly.

"And?"

"Judging from your erection I'm pretty sure you're a full red-blooded straight!"

I felt my face colour up and turned away to hide my embarrassment.

"What if I had been queer?"

"All bets would have been off, I'd have called your Mother and it would have probably stopped her worrying about you and girls." After a pause she asked, "Have you ever had sex with a woman Peter?"

I shook my head and coloured up in even more embarrassment.

Grandmother threw her head back in delight at her discovery and said,"That's easily fixed!" and with that ice breaker we set off on the last leg of the journey.

Her throw away line, "That's easily fixed," kept playing like an endless loop in my mind as we drove silently through South Devon and into Cornwall.

Chapter 2

It was a few minutes after 1am when we drove up the secluded track leading up to Cliff Cottage. The headlights raked left and right as we negotiated the winding track. Ahead the house loomed up before us. Long before we got close, all the security lights lit up, blinding me for a second or two.

It had been a couple of years since I'd visited and the place had grown beyond imagination.

The cute description of the place as a cottage was monumentally misleading.

The house was a grand Georgian-style mansion set in its own estate. Various extensions had been added over the years but these had been well designed and constructed to retain the period feel.

However I knew it was built in the late sixties by a now long forgotten rock singer and purchased by grandmother for a song when he had declared bankruptcy through drugs and profligacy.

I stood for a few moments taking in the vista. The house had been purposely built precariously close to a spectacular stretch of rocky coastline. At the back of the house a glass bottomed viewing platform had been added so the courageous visitor could stand out beyond the cliff edge and look down on the crashing waves.

Looking to the right I spotted a mast with a flashing red aircraft warning light and orange windsock which stood out strongly in the prevailing wind.

Grandmother came up besides me and linked her arm through mine. I turned and smiled, "So that's the expensive new helipad Dad told me about?"

She shrugged and said, "It's a sign of the times Peter, busy people seem to expect them these days, so I thought I better invest in one!"

There wasn't much to unload other then my rucksack and we were soon inside the vast house turning on lights in several rooms.

I dumped my stuff on my bed, took a quick shower, changed into a white sleeveless 'T ' shirt and cut off jeans before padding back barefoot to the lounge to find my hostess.

I found her in the main lounge, the large French windows were open and the sound of crashing waves on the rocks below filled the room. She was standing at the drinks cabinet pouring two glasses of gin and topping them up with tonic water.

In the time I had been away she had fixed her hair into a casual up-do and reapplied her makeup.

She had removed her grey dress in exchange for a silk dressing gown tied at the waist. Gone too were her patent black stilettos. Instead she now wore pink bedroom slippers with a lower heel. The dressing gown hung open as if it was quite normal to show the world her long sexy legs.

To my joy she still wore black stockings but these now had a sort of lace pattern woven into the sides. And holding them up a matching black suspender belt with several straps.

She looked like a photo from a high quality lingerie catalogue and smelled of alluring perfume that negotiated my olfactory canal - somehow taking instant control of my prick.

Then I realised her breasts were bare, but so firm they didn't need any support.

Passing me one of the glasses and slipping her arm in mine, she steered us both to the sofa.

We sat down together our shoulders touching and clinked glasses in a toast

She made a show of crossing her legs and smoothing her stocking with a hand now complete with long pink nails.

"To women," she said and emptied the glass in one swallow.

I followed suit but didn't enjoy the taste at all.

Taking the empty glass from me she placed them on a side table, then turned towards me.

"There's a white envelope on the table, would you fetch it for me Peter?"

I dutifully obeyed and trotted back with said envelope.

"It's addressed to you, so you better open it and read what it says." she said, standing up and taking both our glasses to be refilled.

Intrigued I slit open the envelope taking out a sheaf of papers while keeping an eye on her sexy ass as she padded away.

The covering letter bore the letterhead of my father's office.

"This is from my Dad's office," I said lamely glancing up to where she stood. But she seemed to be distracted, looking intently at her watch.

I continued shuffling through the papers before realising what they contained.

"But this is your will!" I said incredulously, "you're not ill are you?"

She said nothing. Instead she went to the window facing the darkened driveway and peered out into the night sky as if expecting someone.

Then at last I switched on my legal head and began perusing the detail.

While I was absorbed in the legalese she returned to the sofa and again curled up beside me, her head resting on my shoulder, watching my face intently. Her dressing gown again lay open and I was inches away from her firm breasts and impossibly sexy stocking tops and suspenders.

After finishing the last page I turned to her. "But you've left everything to me, this house, several businesses in the UK, Germany and around Europe and all your money, why?"

She was quite serious now. "There's another envelope in there, take it out, read it and sign if you agree. Otherwise I change the will and you get nothing."

As I read the final form in fine detail I heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter circling above the house, then saw the beam of a landing light piercing the ink black sky.

"Have you read and understood what it means?" she asked holding a pen out for me to sign.

"But this is a non-disclosure agreement - a gagging order?"

The helicopter engine suddenly throttled back indicating it had touched down on the helipad.

A minute later it's engine throttled up and it lifted off.

As the sound of the helicopter died away I heard the unmistakeable click of a woman's high heels on the path leading to the front door.

"Just sign it Peter, your Dad drafted everything out and it's all in order, binding and watertight. Sign it and a new life awaits you. Don't sign it, this becomes just a holiday and you loose everything!"

The door bell rang.

I looked at Nan and she nodded me encouragement. So I took the pen and signed.

The bell rang again. This time Nan took the sheaf of papers from me, placed them on the table and headed off to open the door.

My mind was spinning. How would my life change, what were the businesses I would inherit, and more urgently, who was visiting at 2am in the morning?

The waves continued to crash against the cliffs in the intense dark of the night and I felt confused, light-headed and a little drunk.

Then the door to the living room opened and Nan came in arm in arm with an amazing beauty wearing a knee length white raincoat with wrap over belt that concealed a magnificent physique.

She had cascading curls of shiny black hair - reminding me of a comic book warrior queen.

I guess she must have been a couple of inches taller than my 6 feet with an amazing attractive face and skin the olive of a Mediterranean sunset.

She took my breath away an blew my mind in one smouldering look. I'd only ever seen such an incredible woman in the centrefold of my collection of glamour magazines. She was far sexier than anything my young imagination could conjure up.

Nan said something to her in Italian and nodded at me to get up and introduce myself.

I was glad I'd hadn't put on any shorts as standing was not easy because of the iron bar that was my engorged cock.

I felt my face flush in a mixture of fear and embarrassment. The warrior princess held out a perfectly manicured hand, melting my heart with a million dollar smile that touched my soul.

"Buon Giorno Signor Pietro," she said in a sultry voice, "Mi chiama e Claudia."

I looked at Nan for help but she just smiled and said, "Peter, this is Claudia, she's flown in from my Milan bureau to induct you into the company."

Speechless and unsure what I was supposed to say or do, I eventually stammered, "Hello Claudia, I'm very pleased to meet you."

Sensing my surprise and discomfort Claudia stepped forward holding her face close for me to kiss, first one cheek, then the other. Close up her makeup was faultless and I swear

I could see my face in her perfectly applied lipgloss.

Her beautiful green eyes watched me as we kissed cheeks, her expensive perfume making my head float with desire as if I had been drugged. All I could think about was what she was wearing under that white raincoat and pictured myself kissing her, feeling her breasts then fucking her over and over.

It was Nan who broke my dream. "Peter, Claudia will show you our range of goods and services. Pay attention and learn as much as you can from her!" Then she winked at me.

I turned to Nan, lifting my shoulders in helplessness, mouthing "What do I do?"

"Use the guest bedroom next to mine and remember that you are driving her back to the airport at 7-o-clock in the morning. Now off you go, I'll watch a bit of TV until you've finished.

I'll wake you should you lose track of time.

She said something else in fluent Italian then Claudia nodded and held my hand as I steered her to the bedroom still in a daze.

Chapter 3

The drive back from the airport gave me plenty of time to think.

In the previous 24 hours my life had been turned on its head. Before stepping out of the chartered aircraft at Exeter airport everything had been mapped out for me, university, Chambers in London, barrister then judge.

Simple.

But if the journey back was insightful, the hours spent in the car with Claudia were an epiphany.

Far from being a dumb high class hooker, she was a fascinating multilingual, multi-skilled and very, very smart woman.

The first of a series of surprises began as I waited for her in the car just after 7am.

My 'induction' into the organisation had finished around 5 am. I was physically spent and emotionally depleted, desiring only to roll over and go to sleep.