PART THREE – The Deal

   I took drinks, and made him take drinks from kissing me with it in my mouth. Then I set about doing anything and everything I felt like with him, before curling up behind him in bed to fall asleep. One of the first things I had him do to me, was bend me over and fuck the ever loving shit out of me, nice and hard. I kept telling him I wanted it faster and harder. When I was finally getting it as hard as I thought I could handle, I remembered him telling Jay to give him some love. It meant he wanted him to really come at him like he meant it. I finally looked back over my shoulder in the midst of getting it as rough as possible, and locked eyes with him, and said it to him. I then had to hide my face as I teared up and ate my corner of the blanket, squealing and hoping that the music covered it up. I was somewhat ashamed that I liked him more, when I found out he was more masculine than most other people knew. I apologized to him that third date, and begged him to forgive me, and to accept me.

   I know I'm sexually dominant in bed, but I also know that I ask for it like this when I feel like it. Once or twice a week is good, and I ask for it and get it. Like anything else I tell him to do in bed. Before he came, I looked back a last time. Tearing up, eating my corner of blanket. I'm usually bent over for this, like over the hood of my car that night. Now here, it somehow became me hugging the footlocker for dear life. This wasn't the first time face down on the bed for it, but it felt like the best so far. My legs were spread wide and he held my neck and kept me down for it. When I looked back that last time, all tearing and eating my blanket, I put my ass up in the air and buried my tear streaked blanket eating face down into more bedclothes. Offering myself like that, asking to be railed as hard as possible.

   He no longer had to hold my neck down. He could just grab my hips and concentrate on hurting me the way I wanted. I spread my thighs to open it up for him so he had a direct line of access to deliver the good stuff. He reached around and played with me, until I squealed into my blanket and came. I was already wet and it just got worse when I came. The squishing sound made it obvious. Eventually, he slowed down and slammed it one final time into me and rolled my hips around, holding it buried deep inside me when he came.

   Seeing him tonight, and seeing how the other quite obvious tough guys acted around him, I was poignantly reminded of it all. He couldn't afford to live with his fellow Army buddies that all found each other and rented a house for themselves by slowly acquiring all the rental rooms until it was theirs by the numbers. The service has more than its fair share of assholes, I'm sure. These guys were obviously the ones that didn't run around acting up, like others I had seen do so.

   There were other guys like him around. They were hiding right out in plain sight. They either didn't know or didn't care that being thought of as "nice" or the dreaded "too nice" was happening to them. These guys here? They obviously didn't care at all. They were polite like he was, but very up front and open about it all. Women who went to the bar, took their free drinks, danced and made out with guys to sample them publicly, then often enough picked one to go fuck… they had a name for that common behavior.

   They openly and freely said it, too. That? Is a whore. A woman who did it regularly, was even worse. That was a turbo-whore. They chuckled about it. Women in the bars? Weren't even worth bothering with. Women that went to parties at college? Were the same. They said women who wanted to have a drink, there was nothing wrong with that in and of itself, it was the whoring around that they thought made them total shit.

   "If I wanted to taste a dick? I'd be gay. But if I wanted to know what a bunch of dicks tasted like? I'd date a girl that goes to the bars."

   You should have seen the faces on my two girls. They liked these guys, and now each had one asking them out and sitting with them. They looked at each other and decided to keep quiet. They didn't want ignored or made fun of behind their back. Jay freely admitted why he had dropped his last girlfriend. She was a whore, like most girls were these days. Some guy that was friends with him had shown him a video of what his girl was up to on "girls night out", and it sure wasn't like she had portrayed it to him.

   I asked the boys while talking, what they thought about feminism and women's equality to men. I smiled and told them up front, that I didn't believe in it, I just wanted their take on it.

   "Ma'am? In basic, we have to go on marches, and hump packs. They weigh… over 50 pounds. Everyone has one. The women? Don't have to hump packs. They just walk. The biggest and strongest men? Have to carry a second pack, and we pass those girl packs around. We brag about who can carry a double pack the longest, before passing it off. The girls all brag how they're one of the boys now? They ain't. Now, I realize you can't expect women to do as many push ups as the men, and stuff like that. But… qualifying with a rifle? Takes no strength to hold a gun and pull a trigger. They qualify with about anything. If we get a really high score? We get an extra pin to put on. We're a marksman. We're proud of it if we got it, not many guys get one. Those girls? Get a marksman pin, same as ours, and brag it up. They get to be a marksman, for no better shooting than every man has to do, to pass basic training. I'm telling you, I don't mind women not being as strong as men, but… that marksmanship award pin, that really takes the cake."

   I told him that was bullshit in my book. He went on.

   "Girls wanna play soldier? Fine. But men are getting killed in combat because of it. Two of my buddies got sent overseas, and the one that made it back alive? Some girl got my buddy killed. Order came to fall back, and she's hiding and crying. He went up to cover her, and wait for a couple guys to volunteer to come up and drag her crying ass back. He got fucking shot trying to save her. Right in the face. Now, if you can't fight, that's one thing. But Christ almighty. She can't even run away on her own. She had no business being there, and she should have known better. If a man won't fight? You go up on charges of cowardice. They won't do it to women. I ain't never signing up again, if that's the way its going to be now. No way."

   He paused.

   "Can I finish this explanation? I mean, if I'm making you mad? Just say something, I'll quit. No big deal."

   Heck. I smiled and gently urged him on.

   "Way I see it now? You want it like this, fine. Get yourself a whole goddamn infantry group, made up of nothing but those girls like her. Better yet? Take one of those 90 day wonders, some girl fresh out of college they slapped second lieutenant bars on. With her four year degree in… girl science, or whatever they call that sheepskin. She? Can show everyone how useful her… girl science degree is. How capable she is, to lead a real infantry battle group. She can oversee training them? And hell, that ought to be fun all by itself, right there. No big guys around to carry the heavy packs you have to hump around. I mean, it would be worth it, just to see that. Then I expect her to command them, when the time comes. She can march those girls right into battle with a real enemy. Someplace that you're getting a pocket of serious resistance. And I expect videos of that fight, let me tell you."

   I asked why they didn't already have all girls like that. He smiled and shrugged.

   "They used to. Still do, for a lot of stuff. But not enough women can carry their own packs on a march, let alone a second pack to cover the ones who can't carry their own. Then? Infantry needs people to carry around extra heavy stuff they need. Things like… a big machine gun. Kind sits on a big metal tripod you obviously have to carry with it. Machine gun is useless without ammo, and a machine gun eats ammo quick. You obviously have to carry a big pouch of belted ammo on metal links, too. Hell. A machine gun that big gets jammed? You have to hold this big, heavy bolt on a giant spring open… while your hand clears the jam. A girl who ain't strong enough tries it? It can take your fingers clean off when it slams home on her little fingers. Like I said… I'd love to see that all girl firefight video. Settle this shit once and for all time."

   He waited a few seconds, and shook his head slowly.

   "Look. I don't mind… I mean, I recognize reality. There's an aspect of the service, that its a lot like a… big business. Yeah, some guy in command needs to make decisions. Like any business? There's PR to worry about, too. I mean, I dig the PR on this stuff, I get it. But… when great guys are dying, to score brownie points on talk shows? Fuck it. I was gonna be a lifer. Infantry. My plan was, put my 20 in, get my 50 percent pay and retire. Open up my own little engine and body shop. But… no way, now. Someone else can get killed over this stupid shit."

   I told Right, who was not volunteering her major in women's studies by the way, to tell him how we scrimmage the men's soccer team to practice for real games. She admitted how we got knocked around.

   Thinking back about it, now coming back around, I kissed his shoulder.

   "Hey honey. Thanks for giving me a twat concussion. I enjoyed it."

   "Anytime. I have to do what you want in bed, right?"

   "You do."

   "Tell me when you want it."

   "I will. Wanna know what I ordered for your birthday?"

   "Nothing expensive, I hope."

   "No. I found a deal on handcuffs. You said you thought it would be fun for me to have some."

   "You said it would be convenient."

   "I think it will. I got us matching key chains, by the way."

   "Oh really."

   "Yep. You know what thumb cuffs are?"

   "Yes."

   "Novelty key chains. They say Military Police on them. I thought you might like that."

   "Yeah."

   "Good. That way, you don't have to be embarrassed if you use it. No one will know but us what I use them for. Just think, I'll always have a pair of thumb cuffs handy, to render you helpless for my unnatural advances. Anytime, anywhere. You like that idea?"

   "I do."

   "You know the cheap handcuffs? I wanted a pair of the real ones. Then, I found a deal. You know the expensive ones?"

   "Yeah."

   "These are the good ones. But, they're factory seconds. Scratches, the words stamped on them didn't take right, but they work perfect. Or, the machines are going from chrome side plates, over to the black side plates. The stamping off, the side plates don't match… anything cosmetic like that. I got a stack of them, for next to nothing. I'm gonna go nuts trying them out."

   "What were you thinking."

   "I get naughty thoughts. I get moist just thinking about it. Anytime I feel like it, when you're asleep? I can just slip them on you, and wake you up and make you do anything I want. Dirty things, too. I can cuff you're ankles, make you completely helpless. A couple dollars apiece, for a stack of them? I got more than I'll ever need. I can leave a couple in my car, how handy is that. I'll be able to pull over anytime I feel like it, and use you any way I want. When I take you to the girls locker room? I'm gonna handcuff you to the bench. So much more convenient. And in the shower room? Mm. I plan on having four pair. Cuffed twice to every wrist and every ankle. Rope tied to each pair, and I'm gonna spread eagle you to the wall, right in front of me while I shower. You'll be helpless. When I wash you, and soap you, and rinse you, then oil you up. And when it comes time for you to get whipped with my wet towel? You won't be able to move a muscle. I just keep getting ideas, on what I can do with them."

   "Mm."

   "Oh yeah. Here in the bed? I'm gonna have four of them, tied to the four corners of the bed. I'm gonna lay you out and spread you out, and figure out exactly how long to make each one. When I feel like it? I just reach down, and pull them out from under the mattress, and click double cuffs on every wrist, every ankle. Face up, if I want that. Ride you, tickle you, tease you. All I want. Face down, same way? Well, we know what that's for, don't we. I just get all these naughty plans. I'm gonna bend you over the foot of the bed, spread those legs out like that. Hands behind your back, or tied up to the headboard. Can't decide. But you'll be more helpless than ever. And it'll be so convenient."

   "Uh huh."

   "I can't wait, to gag you and blindfold you. Cuff your wrists behind your back, and your ankles too. Leave you here, and lock the door. As long as I want, helpless. Waiting for it. When I get back, I'll do what I promised. But when I'm downstairs? No one else will know, but I will. I'm gonna get so wet, knowing you're helpless upstairs and waiting on it. For whenever I finally decide to come up and take what I want. Which is anything I feel like."

   "Hot."

   "Yeah, I know. I'm ruining your birthday present, telling you, hmm? Don't worry. I got a little something else. A surprise. Don't sweat it, it was cheap. Couple dollars. It costs a couple bucks in the naughty book store, but, online? Cheap as fuck. So I got a couple. Now, that's the birthday surprise. After you get your basement chair? When I'm finally done with you down there, when you finally make it back up here? I'm gonna use my rope and handcuffs on you, and you'll be blindfolded and gagged. Face down, completely helpless. You won't know what's coming, but you'll know something is. You'll be afraid and anticipating it. Then, eventually, you'll start to figure it out. Its something dirty I decided I wanna do, so? Just gonna do it. It doesn't matter what it is, I just do it to you. The only hint I'll give you? I don't care if you like it, or if you don't like it. It happens anyways. But… I think you're gonna squeal for me when I do it. I'm pretty sure of the squealing, but we'll just have to see, won't we?"

   "Hmm."

   "Well. I'll see, I mean. You? Will be blindfolded, waiting to figure out what mommy decided she wants to try. And by try? I of course mean do. I'm pretty sure I'm going to humiliate you, but oh well. I guarantee you won't tell anyone, I don't think. You'll be too embarrassed mommy does that to you. But? She's going to anyways. I'm gonna laugh, and have so much fun doing it. I can't wait. Some music, will cover up your cute little gagged squeals I think you'll make. Probably make you fall asleep in handcuffs the night of your birthday. Right here, like this, but handcuffed. Just knowing I have you sleeping here, helpless in my arms? Is gonna turn me on even more. And if I wake up, and decide I want something? There you are. Helpless, waiting. Its gonna be so great. I can't wait. Too bad a birthday only comes once a year. I decided to make it special for us. Sounds hot, doesn't it?"

   "Very hot."

   "Good. So? Thank me. For taking the time, and the effort, to think of something new for your birthday. Don't stop thanking me over and over, and different each time. Get creative, and remember. Do… not… stop. Until you're told to stop. Understand me?"

   "Yes."

   "Good. Start now, and stay still."

   He started thanking me, and I reached around and checked his interest meter. It was fully interested. Naughty bedtime stories never failed to peak his interest level. I had a warm, wet, slick hand from it in no time. I started and stopped, to make it take as long as possible. I kissed his neck and his shoulder, and I rubbed my leg on his, hugging him from behind like I enjoyed sleeping with him. It took forever. When I finally stopped, than started up fast at the end I laughed in his ear. I said the dirtiest things to him in his ear, as I finished him off like that. He kept thanking me, while I stroked him soft and had him fully milked. I wiped my hand on his hip, like I had a habit of doing. I enjoyed the long thanking, until I was happy.

   "Shh. You can stop now. You did very well, by the way. You, are very welcome. I would say the pleasure was all mine? But, you already know that the pleasure is always, all mine. That's how this works. That's how this will always work. I love to tell you what I want, and you love to give me whatever I want. And right now? I seem to have somehow, gotten all wet again, from all this naughty bedtime story. So. I want you to slide down, and bury your face in my twat, and I want a nice, long, licking. Get to it. I got all wet, and hot and bothered, and I want you to lick me until I'm all tuckered out, so I can sleep. I'll tell you when to stop. Do it now."

   I ate my blanket, and wiped myself on his face until I couldn't stand it, then took some more. I eventually sort of collapsed. I hoped the music covered it, on its repeat list, but… if anyone heard a little something, some noise out of me? That was fine. I wanted everyone to know I got pleasured any night I wanted. It was none of their business how I took it, but it was fine if they knew. The looks the girls gave me at breakfast, I just loved it. Their smiles, my smile, said it all. I had spent far too long alone, and I enjoyed the other girls knowing I was getting serviced any night I felt like it, any time of the day I decided to lead him up by the hand to my room. Before breakfast, after breakfast. Noon-er. Late brunch. Before or after dinner. Or both. I was so pampered and so spoiled, I loved it. Everyone in the house knew I never showered alone, and that it took a while.

   The next morning, I woke him up with a nice, sloppy blowjob. Then dressed him in my soccer shorts and nothing else. Since I just serviced him, I could trust he wouldn't get all wooded up. The girls smiled when he had his back to us cooking, and I smiled back to let them know I was showing him off, they were allowed to look. I let him enjoy seeing them in their sleeping T shirts and underwear. He tried to be polite and not enjoy their morning stretches and yawns, but I had told him if he didn't stare that it was fine to notice. I'm pretty sure Little Lightning was his favorite. It was one he had tried to ask out, before I found him and landed him. It made sense. After the fun I got out of the situation with lazy whore number three and her prancing around putting on a show, I didn't mind letting him look. After all, if he got any little jolly out of it, it was just getting used on me anyways.

   When me and the girls decided to practice a little after breakfast, I went upstairs to change. He followed me up, which was nothing new. I smiled as I enjoyed myself a little. I sat on the end of the bed, and I pointed down. I got my ankles held and my little kisses I liked. I went and opened up my gear bag, then came back and sat down again, and had him go back to my ankles and the kisses. When I was ready, I started. I scratched his hair, and talked sweetly.

   "Now. I'm going to have you dress me. I've decided I really like this. Now, after a couple times of this, I'll ask you if you really enjoy it. If you don't, we don't have to. But if you do, it'll become a regular thing. If you enjoy it, and it becomes a regular thing? Don't lie to me to please me, because it will become a permanent feature. Now. Every morning, I want you to dress me. If it becomes permanent, I'll have you thoroughly trained by the time classes start. We'll make sure we get up a wee bit earlier than we need to, so I can enjoy this, each and every morning. You ready?"

   He was.

   "Good. I want you to go over to my gear bag, I already opened it up for you. I have all my practice outfits in there. Now listen, I want you to fetch things I tell you to. We play fetch sometimes, so you know that means you crawl over on your hands and knees, and you get things with your mouth, and you bring them back. Don't get them wet and slobbery, you fetch carefully. Now let's try this out. I want you to fetch my thick practice socks first. Go on. Fetch."

   He went and stuck his face in my bag, and dug around and came up with my clean practice socks. They're really thick, to protect my feet like I need. The school buys them, I'm not sure you can even get them this thick and heavy duty in any store, anywhere. He brought them back and dropped them at my feet. I rubbed his head and told him he did very good.

   I lifted my foot, and had him slowly put first one on, then the other. I showed him how for now, since I wasn't wearing shin guards, I didn't need them pulled up, and how I liked them pulled down and bunched just above my ankles. So I had him take them off, and do it again "properly".

   Then I had him fetch my panties, and I stood up and I stepped into them, and had him slowly pull them up and arrange them flat. I told him this wasn't for jollies, he wasn't to touch my twat or too much of my ass when he did my panties every morning. Then I had him fetch my practice shorts, they matched the ones I had him in to show off that I claimed him as exclusively mine. I stood up and stepped into them, and he slid them up and arranged them on me.

   I told him he was doing good, and to fetch my T shirt. I then sent him to fetch the other one in the bag. He dropped it with the first one. I leaned forwards, and got him to put my T shirt on for me. I had him fetch my wrist sweat bands, one at a time, then I held out my hands to get them put on, and showed him exactly where I wanted them. So, I had him take them both off, and do them again "properly".

   I had him fetch my head sweatband, and showed him how to put it on me. Then I had him take it back off, and I taught him how I liked my ponytail done. I made him do it a couple times, until he had been taught to spread my hair to tighten it snug. Then I got the sweatband back on. Then, to have him demonstrate he could do it "properly", he took both off. I had him do them both from scratch.

   Last I had him fetch my soccer spikes one at a time. When he had both, I had him put each foot in them, and started training him gently how to do it. To loosen all the laces first and how to put my foot in. To then slowly tighten the laces, coming up from the end and working up. I then patiently taught him how to untie them, and how to loosen them correctly. Then, I had him show me he could do it properly. After twice more of this, I pointed to my other foot, and he did it correctly the first time. I put my spikes together and pointed, and I got my ankles held and my little kisses on my spikes instead of the tops of my feet like usual.

   When I was done blushing and I was sure it had passed, I told him to stop and kneel up. I put my knees over his shoulders, and grabbed his face with my hands sweetly.

   "That was very good for a first time. I'm impressed."

   He nodded.

   "You were just given a compliment. Shh. You wait. I'm going to be generous, and let that slide, just the one time. This is just like bed. I'm in charge. You know when I'm in charge, how to act. You better take this seriously, because I will. Now. Don't ever do that again. You've been warned nice about it. Remember that. Now, you were given a compliment. You thank me nice, and you thank me for being so nice and letting something slide like that. Do it now."

   He did, until I told him he could stop.

   "Okay. I've decided to have a fun little practice for me and the girls every day until your birthday. You, are going to dress me for my morning practice, every morning after breakfast. I expect you to learn how to do this properly. Now, after your birthday, you'll have a chance to decide if you mind this or not. Don't say you like it if you don't. Because if you decide you like it? It's going to become a permanent feature of our relationship. You'll dress me every morning. If we do, after I decide you have it down pat? You'll be responsible for doing it properly. Once I decide you know how to do it properly? If you do anything incorrectly, it will mean you did it on purpose. And I'll punish you, very severely, for testing me like that. Do you understand me?

   He did.

   "Now then. Me and the girls, are going to run around the edge of the yard, around this whole plan, for a while. You can jog with us if you like. This first time, the girls will run in front of me, and I'll follow them. You? If you choose to jog with us, will follow behind me. I want you to watch my ass and my legs, like I'm pretty sure you like. You can enjoy watching me, and enjoy watching me sweat. I think you like seeing a girl work out, so I want you to enjoy it. If you're good, I'll start letting you jog in front of me. So I can enjoy seeing my property, and enjoy your legs and your ass, and watching you sweat. You will then be allowed to enjoy staring at the girl's legs, and its fine. That, will be a privilege you earn. By dressing me properly, without needing corrected on anything. Now, do you want to jog with us?"

   He did.

   "Good. Thank me, for letting you watch my ass and my legs the whole time."

   I pointed down, and he grabbed my ankles and my spikes got little kisses while he thanked me, and I brought him back up again.

   "You're welcome. Now. I want all the girls here that notice us, to see you in my shorts, with my team number on it. You know that means we're a steady item. You get to wear one of my other practice T shirts, too. That's what its fetched for. You'll put it on. Go ahead, let me see how you look, in my shorts and my shirt."

   He put the T shirt on and came back up kneeling with me. I draped my knees over his shoulders again, and kissed him slow and sloppy for a while.

   "Do you like wearing my shorts, and my shirt? Showing everyone my number, so they know you're my steady thing and I claim you as mine?"

   He did.

   "We're allowed to get the wrist sweatbands and the head sweatbands with our number on them, without the pink lines. That's because its a thing, to give your boyfriend your number to wear. The boys get ones with pink lines and their number on them too, to let their girls wear them to show them off. Do you want me to get them for you, so when you go work out, you can wear them?"

   He did.

   "I didn't think about it earlier, so they won't be here for your birthday. I'm sorry about that. But you'll definitely get them, and I appreciate you wearing my number around. It shows you like me and you're not ashamed to let all the other girls know who you belong to. Thank you, it's very sweet of you."

   He remembered to thank me for his compliment, and I smiled and told him he was making me happy. I kissed him some more, and told him to get ready to jog, then he could watch me practice and work up a sweat for him.

   "Now, before you get ready. After this little fun practice is over? We're going to come up here, and I'm going to also start training you how to undress me after a practice. Now, once or twice I had you in the locker room and the shower, I had you lick me after I worked out. Did you like it?"

   He did.

   "Great. You're going to get another crack at it. After You learn how to undress me properly today, I'm going to stand here on a towel, and you're going to give me a tongue bath. From the top of my feet, to my head, and every, single, inch of me in between. There are pheromones and chemicals in my sweat, and I want you licking them. You're already basically addicted to the smell of me, dry or sweaty. You're going to get more addicted to the taste and smell of me, and get those chemicals. You're mine, and this is going to keep you mine. Forever. You'll never get away from me if I have anything to say about it, and I'm going to make every effort that you never want to try. Thank me for putting the effort in, to keep us together, forever. Go on."

   He did. I kissed him some more, then I took my knees off of his shoulders and told him to get ready. When he was done, I took his fingers in mine and slowly led him downstairs. The girls were already dressed, and we went out. The girls used each other to stretch out for a run, and we used each other. Other than the normal stuff, we put our ankles on each other's shoulders, and stretch out that way too. I'm pretty sure he liked the leg show of stretching out with me, and we've done it a lot before we go for jogs.

   He works out and jogs a lot, so it was no surprise he could keep up with us easily. After a bunch of laps outside the outermost perimeter of this housing plan, me and the girls did a speed lap. I told him to try to beat the girls if he could. He could pull ahead of me, which was no surprise to me at all, how far I know he jogs. He was a distance runner. But not a sprinter. The girls are very competitive, and particularly about speed, which is one of their main assets. They pulled away from him, and it was fun to watch him try to catch them. He finally managed to come abreast of Right, and managed to pass her slowly. Light noticed and didn't want beat by anyone, and laughed and found out she had to turn her jets on to stay a couple steps ahead of him, by the time we made it back.

   Standing in a circle, sweat dripping off of us, we all laughed.

   "Well, well, well. I can't give you two a run for your money. Finally found someone in the off season who can keep you moving even if I can't."

   He got to sit and have a cold drink, and watched us practice a little. We mainly did all passing drills, which is a normal thing we have to do like breathing. We all spread out afterwards, after a cold drink for a break together, and practiced clearing the ball. They need to be able to do it some, but in particular I need to be able to clear the ball from as close to goal to goal as I can. In addition to taking the heat out of a hot kitchen around our goal by clearing the ball up field, during a tie game a team might pull their goalie. To use them as an extra player, to try to win. If I can clear the ball far enough, and accurately enough, I stand a chance of an empty net, or, to make it to a girl cherry picking up there who can tap it in to break the tie and win.

   I smiled at him, dripping sweat, and he seemed to enjoy watching me clear. We finally got separated enough, that one of the girls was at the far end of my range. Too far for her to clear back to me, but she passed to the other close enough she could just clear it to me to do it again and again. I could feel his eyes on my legs, as I ran up and put my instep to the ball and launched it. When I do this after all these years, my leg comes back and up behind me and my whole body goes into the launch. The twist of my hips and the slight turn of my shoulders puts more momentum into the launch.

   When we were finally done, the girls wanted some fruit and cottage cheese and I took mine up to my room. Before I did, I asked if the girls minded if I showered first. They smiled and shook their heads, it was fine. Their smiles told me they knew what I was enjoying, they said they would watch some TV until it was their turn. I thanked them for it, and thought how little you two really know. I smiled at him, and took the plate of fruit and cottage cheese in one hand, and his fingers in the other and led him up the steps behind me. My lightly grasping fingers tugged him into our room and locked the door and put the music on. I let the fruit salad and cottage cheese wait.

   "Strip."

   He did.

   "Fetch mommy's towel."

   He dropped it in front of me, standing near the foot of the bed. I had him spread it out, then I sat on the bed, and pointed. I smiled as he didn't hesitate to hold my ankles, which I expected, but I was mildly surprised he didn't pause and gave little kisses to my spikes. I told him to stop.

   "Now. I already showed you how to take mommy's spikes off. Start on this one."

   I showed him nicely what wasn't correct, and had him lace them back up correctly, then start over again.

   "That's much better. Now try this one. See if you can do this one right the first time, and impress mommy."

   He did. I put my stocking feet together for just a little bit of kisses and ankle holding in my now used socks, to see if he would do it. To my surprise, he did. I quickly stopped him. I wasn't into completely humiliating him, but I had read that this ritual of dressing and undressing the dominant partner is loved by both among the couples that practice it. I was loving it, and he wasn't complaining or hesitating.

   This really isn't a practice in complete humiliation, though it could certainly seem like it to a vanilla person. I'm dominant in the bedroom, and he likes it. He gets off on doing what I say. The submissive enjoys this, like he was. They obey you eagerly, like he was obeying me. Hanging on my every word and gesture. Humiliation would be getting my dirty feet licked, and my dirty toes sucked on. That's humiliating when they're clean, and doubly so when dirty. That's not our thing. Neither of us is "into" feet like some couples are, we both think its silly. Which it is.

   What is important though. Couples should like every part of their partner's body. If they don't, this gets them over it. There really are "love chemicals" in sweat, and it really does addict the partner over time. Its important for a bonding couple to enjoy the smell and taste, both before sex and after. I want him hooked on me thoroughly, because I want to keep him, forever. Its why I had him smell me in places over my body that third date night camping.

   I had him take first one sock off, then the other. I had him put my feet on the towel. Together. I got a few little kisses, then stopped him.

   "Now. If you needed a mild punishment? I would put my dirty socks into your mouth, and you would let me. If you needed that mild correction, and you didn't let me do it? You would get a severe punishment. You don't want a severe punishment, do you?"

   He didn't.

   "All right. You aren't in any trouble, but I'm going to do it once, to demonstrate that I can and will, if I need to. Do you understand you're not in trouble, its just a little demonstration?"

   He did.

   "Good. Now, just to demonstrate in case I ever have to, you'll know what to expect."

   I pointed at my socks laying there, and had him fetch them into my hand. He did. I then reminded him again, it was just a quick demonstration I could. I rolled them up, and shoved them into his mouth. And smiled at him watching him there with my dirty socks in his mouth, with my arms crossed. When I had made my point I could and would do it if I wanted to, I took them out.

   "Now then. That's kind of gross, isn't it?"

   He admitted it was.

   "It sure is. This was a short practice. You can imagine a long practice, like in the preseason. If you need corrected, you could end up with them in your mouth for quite some time. A gentle reminder, who is in charge in bed. If you're good, and you listen to me, you won't get that. If I start getting misbehavior, that will happen. So, try to behave, and you won't end up getting my wet, dirty socks in your mouth all night. Do you understand this little demonstration?"

   He did.

   "Okay. You're being very good."

   We started with taking my ponytail out, and my headband off. Then my wristbands. Then I stood up on the towel and I got my shorts slid slowly down and stepped out of them, and I showed him to make a little pile. Then my panties were last. I rubbed my panties under his nose, and smiled.

   "Yeah. I got a little wet, thinking about doing this after we were done. I like it."

   Then I stood up on the towel, and put my feet together, and pointed. I instantly got my ankles held, and some little kisses. After a little while, I stood with my feet about shoulder width apart, and directed him. Both feet, then ankles, Then every inch of my legs. My entire body got slowly licked. I let him do everything, except my twat. He even gave my underarms a quick few licks each. He lifted my breasts, and got all over them thoroughly. He slowly worked up me, and soon ended up standing to get the top of me. My neck, then finally my face. Then I sat down, feet together, and got some little kisses time. Then I brought him upright on his knees, and I draped my knees over his shoulders like I enjoyed.

   "Now, was that so bad?"

   It wasn't, and I was thrilled.

   Like I said, this isn't hardcore humiliation. If it was, there would be extended dirty foot licking, extended sweaty armpit licking. That's gross, this isn't about humiliation, and we aren't into that. I just get the very tops of my feet done near my ankles, and a quick tiny lick or two on my armpits, to get it over with. Demonstrating a minute with mildly dirty socks was fun, but he knows who is in charge in the bedroom and this reinforces it, solid. In the future he might get a long time of very dirty ones, but only to correct something I want corrected. That would be an actual mild punishment. He actually likes being threatened with being severely punished, its part of the game. I likely wouldn't, but I could and would if I felt like it. The threat of it, being punished severely? Is as I said, both a fun part of the game, and a reminder that I can if I feel like it.

   "You did very well, for your first official dressing and undressing practice session. Mommy is very proud of you."

   He thanked me, without being asked to. He's hanging on my every word, ever since I told him I was being nice and letting that one slip in manners during mommy time slide.

   "Now. Check and make sure the coast is clear. I want all our dirty clothes in the washer and started. Be quick, and be careful no one sees you naked. If you get caught and seen naked? You'll get a very severe punishment later for it. You're mine to look at, and no one else better ever, and I mean ever, catch sight of you naked. You'll have to sleep face down for a couple nights if it ever happens, even once. So be careful, then report back. Go."

   He gathered them up, and quickly started the washer after dropping in a laundry soap gob after a quick scoping out that the coast was clear, and zipped back in and re-locked the door. I told him that was a good job, and I got my knees back over his shoulders again.

   "You're doing very well. After your birthday, you'll get a chance whether to make this permanent or not. Now. Pay attention to all of this. If it goes permanent? You're going to want to get it right. Once its permanent, and I decide you do it well? I'm from then on, going to expect that you take it seriously and do it correctly. You'll get a severe whipping down in the basement, for testing me. I don't want to have to do that, and you don't want that. So don't ever test me. I want this to be fun, and keep us close. Okay?"

   He agreed. Good.

   "Now. You're being trained, to fulfill my fantasy of how I want cared for after a hard practice. I'm going to be very sore and very tired. You won't be licking the sweat off of me, that's just a fun thing after a jog or after a day at school. But I like it. I hope you like it, and agree to make this all permanent. You'll get your chance to decide, after your birthday is over. Now its time for my shower and my bath. Wrap a towel around your naked little ass, and go get the bath and the shower ready. You're practicing for taking care of me after the preseason camp starts. You're pretty good at the shower and the bath, but we're going to make you perfect at it, because I want to really enjoy it. You? Are doing very well, by the way."

   He thanked me for my compliments, and I sent him to get the bath and shower ready.

   At the start of the shower, I explained this was just a short demonstration, like my dirty socks in his mouth for one minute. To show him I could. I was actually very happy with him, it was to show him I could and that was all. I made him open his mouth, and I stuck a bar of soap in it.

   "Dirty socks in your mouth? You have a dirty mouth now. One minute of sock time, and I need two minutes of soap time, to clean it out. If you're ever misbehaving, and I'm nice enough not to give you the severe punishment you deserve for it? I may, at my discretion, choose to give you an hour, or even more if I feel you deserve it, of my socks in your mouth. So, it should be obvious. If you get an hour of dirty socks? You'll then get two hours, of this soap time. Its not fun, is it? No, it isn't. Can you imagine an hour of my dirty socks, to teach you a lesson? It will get followed up by two, whole, hours, of this soap. I'll tie a bandanna around it, and tie your hands to keep it in, if I ever have to. Two hours? You will not be able to spit it out, it will be tied in tight. Your wrists will be tied tight, and it will be horrible. You'll squeal and cry long before its over, and I'll laugh at you, and remind you what it was for the whole time."

   He promised me he'd be good.

   "And if an hour of socks, and two hours of soap doesn't fix the problem? I'll then double it. Two hours of dirty socks, followed immediately by four, whole, hours, of soap time. Soap tied in tight, hands tied tight behind your back. You'll be struggling, and squealing, and crying… the entire time. I'll put music on, and I'll laugh at your struggling, and I'll keep reminding you what it was for. I don't care, if we have to spend a whole day with the socks in, I'll follow it right up, with two whole days of that soap time. Do we understand each other?"

   He said we did.

   "All right. Now give mommy the soap, and rinse your poor little mouth out, go on."

   He did. He made the worst face from just two minutes as a demonstration.

   "Yeah. Its horrible. Don't make me do it. Don't give me a reason to watch you for hours with the soap, okay? Now. Let's practice a good shower on me. You're doing a very good job, I'm very happy with you."

   He thanked me for complimenting him.

   "Good job, not needing told. You could have gotten a mouth full of soap for the whole shower, for not showing me manners. Now…"

   I put my hands on the wall, and got my slow, pampering shower. God, this is heaven. I loved my hot soaking bath, the foot rub, the leg rub, the back and shoulders, mm. After the preseason camp starts, this is going to be just the thing, I swear. No other girl will get this. I'll be the only one, and I'm so lucky and know it.

   I laid face down on the bed for my body rub and body massage, both sides more than once. He brought our clothes out of the dryer and dropped all the towels and washrags in the washer. Then I told him how good he had done, and how much I appreciated it.

   I had him get the plate of cut up fruit, and cottage cheese. I had him put spoonful after spoonful into my mouth, and I did it back for him. We kissed pieces of fruit back and forth, and we both liked cottage cheese and did that as well with kisses. I spent a while at the foot of the bed, with my knees over his shoulders, kissing him. Wet and sloppy. Unhurried and intimate. When I heard one of the girls in the shower, I brought him up onto the bed, and spent her entire bath time, kissing him. I took a break until the other one started, with us just laying and hugging. Then more slow, wet kissing throughout her shower time as well.

   Together time like this, enjoying just kissing and hugging, is not just for fun. Most mammals kiss or groom, and it deepens the chemical bond between the couple. Most couples when young and infatuated, will kiss and hug for hours. Over time? It goes down to nothing or quits. It might be just for during or around sex. It shouldn't be. If you lose enjoying it outside of sex, its a step back from a lifetime bond. I don't want that.

   Same with enjoying the smell and taste of the partners body, both directions. If a partner doesn't enjoy their partner's natural scent, dry or sweaty, that's a bad sign. You might enjoy the look of your partner a shit ton, but if you have to "get used" to their scent? That's bad. You have baseline attraction or better with looks, but the scent? That's a chemical signature.

   Most men enjoy their woman's scent, its very rare for men to report they had to get used to it. It usually only happens with men who pick a wife for her family connections or to "marry up". There's no fixing it, you simply aren't in chemical love, and absolutely nothing can change that. There's no way to force it. Now, there are on the other hand plenty of women who will from the get go, make a face and bark at the man for trying to hug and kiss her after work or working out. You smell. You smell like an animal. Don't you dare try that, you go get a shower and I mean now. Don't you so much as sit down, you smell. Go.

   That? Is a clear sign from day one, she's not in chemical love with her man. She picked him on looks alone, because her girlfriends were impressed and she could land him. Or for his money or connections or something else. If she enjoys it at first, then later on starts this? She's no longer attracted the way she was. To any men reading this, learn this and never forget it. If a woman pulls this when dating? Drop her, it will never work out well. And, if she starts out liking it just fine, and later on starts this? She no longer loves and respects you, and is simply keeping you for your money, or her ability to make you do what she says, or some other reason.

   This sudden irritation with the man suddenly "smells" and is ordered to clean up before touching her or sitting down? Is highly associated with women that do the "innocent" girls night out trick. Men, its not innocent, its the farthest thing from innocent as you can get. You're having your tap shut off, and your woman is going out, regularly mind you, to get humped by strange cock. Simple as that.

   After Lightning was cleaned up and changed, she was excited for her date. Jay and the other one, were coming to pick the two of them up, and take them for ice cream and miniature golfing. It was nice to see them going on a normal date. I'm not sure either one had been on a traditional date since starting college, that didn't involve a party or a bar trip. Their only complaint was that there was no sex on or after miniature golfing ended. I reminded them, that these were decent men, and it would happen. I made them promise, to not go out and get some strange guy's dick, and at least "try" to have a decent boyfriend, for once. They said they would.

   The next two weeks went wonderfully. Number three started coming out of her room more. Not that we enjoyed her any more than normal, but she was slightly less than her usual self most of the time. She joined us for our little morning practices, but she only does it because she has to. The other two? Love it. She was irked none of the "Army boys" liked her, and that the other two had boyfriends out of that group. She was sour when they enjoyed their time with the guys, watching movies, or going on little dates that weren't expensive.

   I found it very sweet when the guys dropped them off at somewhat "respectable" hours, and were always polite to me. Lightning actually approached me one night at the kitchen table, to ask how to get laid. I smiled at my boyfriend at the table with us, having a late night snack together, and suggested the third date was a great time. The girls brought the boys in after their third little date. A traditional movie date, and had the guys in. Me and mine went upstairs, and told them to have fun. In the morning, both guys were nowhere to be found. Me and Wiz smiled. We had been kind of expecting company for breakfast.

   Instead of "tardfoot, tardfoot", the morning teasing was which was responsible for them not getting laid yet. Right was blaming Lightning for not letting Jay buy her a movie ticket, popcorn and drink, nor anything else. Lightning was questioning what this had to do with her and hers.

   Number three picked up whatever loser she dredged up on her night out on the town. Whoopee. But she was less cranky, and had somewhere to go to get herself out of our hair. If she thought she was punishing us, it wasn't taken as more than a reward. For his birthday, number three was tickled to spend the night with her new whatever the hell he was, she didn't bring him around and we never tried to get it to occur. With the sex ice broken with the other two, they jumped at the chance to stay with their new boyfriends at the "barracks" rooming house for the first time overnight.

   I would have him all day and all night, and into the next day, for fun. My packages had arrived a day apart from each other a couple of days before. I teased him by showing him the stack of handcuffs, but never used them. I teased him by handcuffing him and kissing him, then removing them after a short time. They were for birthday fun. Anticipation is great. I left the other package taped shut, and sweetly warned him that if it got opened before it was time, I would be very angry and he would get a very severe punishment.

   "If you open that one? Its a surprise. And if you ruin that for me, I'm going to be actually angry you disobeyed me. Its for naughty time, that means you have to obey me about it. I'm in charge of all things around sex, so that's that. Now. If you do it? You're going to get hours of dirty socks, and I'll tie them into your mouth with one of your bandannas. That will be followed by twice as many hours of the bar of soap in your mouth I promised you would follow that. I mean it. Do you want to spend you entire birthday alone with me, with dirty socks for hours tied into your mouth? No sex either."

   Turned out he didn't like that idea.

   "Don't forget it. And remember. That will get followed up, immediately? With a bar of soap. I'll tie it in with the same bandanna, and I'll tie your little hands up tight, and you'll cry and scream for hours. Laying here in front of me. I'll laugh and tell you I warned you, and I'll keep reminding you what it was for. I'm talking four hours of dirty socks, which will mean? Eight straight hours of helpless soap time. You'll be screaming the whole time, I promise you. I will not take it out until eight hours is up, and I mean by the clock. Do we understand each other?"

   He smiled and promised we did.

   "Good. Don't forget it. I tried to plan some fun surprises for your birthday, so don't ruin it. We're gonna have the house to ourselves, for a long time. Just think. Naughty, naked breakfast. Naughty, naked movie night. Right in the living room. Not to mention. A whole night of alone time, so you get an idea how much fun it'll be to live alone with me. Sound like fun? Sound like a fun birthday tomorrow?"

   It did, apparently. Big surprise there, huh. Get it, big surprise? I'm a laugh riot. And, all this birthday bedtime story had a big interest level, too. Oops, there's that pun again. Sorry. Except I'm not. I know what I'm doing when I do it. I reached around and told him to keep still, or I'd quit. I pulled my hand off agonizingly slow to start out. Every little twitch called for a stop. I laughed in his ear, and kissed and bit his neck for each pause. I was waiting longer each time to start back up. When I did start up a little faster than before my stoppage? More little twitches, so longer stopping. Then sudden faster movement. Longer neck kisses and biting fun while waiting. So, when the last wait was a long time, with me laughing in his ear? Oh, I was naughty. How I might not even start up again now, and he'd have to try to sleep all night, so horny like that. Laughing and nibbling on his neck. Licking it positively obscenely. Then I suddenly ripped into a high speed frenzy of a warm and soaking wet hand, which was making obscene noises all on its own. Accompanied with the predictable squeals of delight coming out of his mouth that I clamped my hand over tightly to stifle.

   I wiped my hand on him, and told him when he woke up? It would be the start of his birthday fun.

   I got up before him, and wondered why. I sneaked out of bed quietly and stole into the bathroom to pee and get back in. That's when I heard something. I'm naked. I tiptoed back in the bedroom, and pulled on my practice shorts and a practice T shirt. I smiled when I realized this was "his" set, and I was wearing it. Why everyone was up in the wee hours this early, was a mystery. I peeked around the kitchen to the living room, and saw both girls getting up off the couch, and Jay and the other's friend were coming to collect them. I walked in and said hello, and they joked it was goodbye.

   "Ma'am? Thanks for introducing me to Little Lightning here. I like her. She's a cute girl."

   The other one smiled and nodded and said it went for him, too. I told them I should be thanking them, for having the girls going out with such nice men. The guys were collecting the girls early, if that was fine with me.

   "Oh, sure."

   "I know. Its Wiz's birthday. Trust me, I know how rare it is to get a day or a night alone when we all live like this for college, rooming up. If you think this is bad? Try living with all guys in the service for four years. Alone time? You have to escape the base to even think about it. So, have fun and enjoy a fun birthday party. We're leaving early. Fishing trip. The girls said they didn't mind leaving a little earlier. We're staying out fishing, and the girls might stay another night with us, so… have fun."

   The other one smiled, and gave me a little salute. He was nice, too.

   "You have a coach, right? You like the coach?"

   "Oh, yes. Yeah, he's a great guy. He does more than a coach has to on paper, trying to manage the team."

   "Right. We were all army, and Wiz was in the service too, its how we got to be buddies at the gym. But… you saw. He's kinda like a free coach. We get free fight training. He doesn't have to do it. What he does? It's expensive and hard to find someone like that. He does it for free, says he likes getting a workout. So, like he said, enjoy our little present. An empty house? Our little treat."

   Jay chuckled.

   "Yeah. Like Wiz doesn't benefit some too. We're gonna get going. We're trying to be on the water by first light. Bluegill start with the first ray of light. That wakes up the bass, gotta be there or miss it. Tell Wiz we said happy birthday, and enjoy. Come on girls, you gotta get those cute little asses in gear. We miss bluegill? We miss the bass. We miss the bass? We might throw you two in. Come on…"

   He winked at me to let me know he was just teasing my "little sisters". The girls were all smiles. I'm sure that they were looking forward to more than fish all day and all night on the water somewhere. Then a night and day back at the boys rental house. You would normally worry about two young girls staying over at a house full of horny young men, but… these guys were like my own boyfriend. They were, ironically, safer there surrounded by men than here, if number three managed to get them out for a fun night.

   I thanked the boys for my present, and told the girls to have fun. Then, I locked the front door. Creeping back upstairs, I peeked into the half open door of the only one left. Huh. Number three must be trying to be nice to me too, in her own way. She was gone too. Lord only knew where she was staying and with who and doing what. Wow, I suddenly realized. Birthday fun starts before sunrise. I crept back downstairs, and checked the door was locked. I knew it was, but I slid the big bolt over. If you want actual privacy with room mates, a bolted door from the inside guarantees it. Even a key does no good, and you have to knock or call to get in.

   I smiled. Bolt, slid over. The outside world? Locked out temporarily. Home life? Locked out for a couple days and nights. My boyfriend? Locked in with me. Talk about perfect. I sneaked back upstairs, and crept back into the room. Good, it looked like he was still asleep. I crept back into bed like a criminal preparing to pounce on an unsuspecting sex crime victim. Because that's exactly what I was doing, and he would love it.

   I got back into position and sidled up behind him. When the little rustles went away, I waited for the long, deep breathing to come back. There we go. I clamped my hand over his mouth and pulled his head back into me, and slung my leg over both of his. He started awake, and realized it was just me.

   "Don't move. Don't make a sound. No music. You wouldn't want any of the girls to hear. Hands behind your back, little boy. Now. And don't make me tell you twice. Yeah, that's right… good boy…"

   He gave me his wrists, and I clicked on one out of his stack of birthday handcuffs I had been teasing him with. I enjoyed the little clicks and checking how snug they were, then locking the little double lock to keep them from over tightening. I got up and went and got one of the thumb cuffs. I clicked those on his thumbs, after experimenting exactly how they should go on. The little instruction pictures showed how you could do it basically the nice way, or with a slight twist of the hands. Palms twisted together one direction, was more secure. Then I loosened the handcuffs and readjusted them, then re-clicked them again. I just loved the sound. I redid the double lock, and showed him the key, waving it in his face.

   "Now? I won't have to go looking for you in the morning. Hmm. I left the door open, too. Roll over and look, if you don't believe me. You better stay real still, and real quiet. What if one of the three girls gets up, and decides to check on my open door, huh? They'll see you like this. Naked… helpless… just think how embarrassed you'd be. Then? That's nothing. Getting seen naked? That's a severe punishment, you already got told that before. So you know. Now. I'm going down to make an early coffee. You? Better hope no one finds you, or else. And the only reason your little ankles are free? In case you have to pee. And you better hope one of the girls doesn't walk in the bathroom, and see that. Just think how embarrassing that would be, huh? Caught peeing, they realize how helpless you are. Then remember, you'll get punished for it. So… be careful. I'll be back…"

   I left the door wide open, and studied his face. It was all nervous. I waved and smiled and went downstairs, making no effort to be quiet, whatsoever. Hello, little scary ride. Birthday fun. I did it again, I worked some legitimate fear into the scenario, for a second time. Where is my golden whip award, for these convincing performances. I laughed in the kitchen. I hummed and sang. I made noise opening and closing cupboards, looking for things already out. Knowing the noises would reach him upstairs, and frighten him. Dishes clanking. I spun the saucers on the counter, giggling. The clonk of the sauce pan he liked coffee made in.

   It was why I had shut the soft music off, before starting this impromptu extra fun. I wanted him to be able to hear every early morning noise I made, and get his little heart racing from the nervousness of getting "caught" in such a compromising position. Fun. Soon enough, I'd get his little heart racing in a different way. The sun wasn't up yet, and he got his first early birthday present, a short scary ride. I'm devious, and he loves it.

   A sex life like this? Its not really about controlling someone, and getting off on controlling them. That's just a little component of it. It prevents a boring, vanilla existence. But why switch Thursday boink night, just for Thursday butt swatting night. That's more spicy and sexy, granted. But the same principle still applies there. This… well, this lifestyle for us? Its meant to be exciting. Any day, at any moment? I can smile and pull the car off on a side road, and head for some woods. Maybe, the trip was a fake and it was the whole point of the trip. Another surprise inside a surprise. Any day, any moment? Your lover can suddenly grab you rough and hiss in your ear, that it's time for… really anything.

   You get a little jump scare, like a cat jumping out in a movie. Then you laugh, it was a fun scare. The scary movie music? You know something's gonna happen… then bang. You like it, the movie is boring without some of those. Just when you're convinced, its another harmless fake jump scare? A real one happens. That's when you get an unexpected something done to you. A new thing, something that recreates that racing heart, that nervousness. That was later, when he got his big surprise box.

   The real secret? Nervousness and fear, share very similar biochemical body chemistry with sexual excitement. Think about it. Nervous asking the girl out, nervous for a test. Both have sweating, fidgeting, and increased pace of thoughts. Your body is using the same chemicals, to put you into both of these similar states. Sex and violence share a place close to each other in the human brain. Its not some supposition, you can actually see it on brain scans of people watching images.

   You vanilla couples out there? How can a couple dollars and free shipping, create two days of excitement, anticipation, desire and craving. You just can't. We can though. He knows I located a willow tree walking, and purloined a couple free sticks, for the love of god. He's begging to see them, and I'm smiling and making him wait. Describing them to him, for naughty bedtime stories. We're limited only by imagination and creativity. Try getting that level of fun, excitement, and craving desire between you two, if you're vanilla. Go on, let me know how you can keep it up over time.

   I brought home a couple free sticks. He's begging to see them, like a dog. All but running around and wagging his tail, every time I head for my locked closet, just in a case a doggy treat comes out, just in case he gets to play with a stick. Nope, not this time. But his eyes follow me carefully, each and every trip to that closet, without fail. I smile, and reach in, and pull out… a mundane thing stored there. Ha.

   What few college couples manage to get to a steady thing, in today's run around world? Of boys pretending to be bad boys and girls that are whores in all but name. They don't make it very far, before the boys night out weekend is back in. The girls night out is back. Then what. There goes a day or two of every weekend, lost. He'd rather be with the boys now than with you, like those first few magical weeks were. Then, you have to get him back, so Tuesday girls night. Ha. The boys are at the bar, and the other girls are out sport-fucking your man. You're all out doing it to each other, and complaining when it gets done to you. Don't you all realize how crazy it all is?

   Mine never did want the bar, and craves alone time with me. A night? Good. A weekend? Great. Holiday break? Even better. We can't wait.

   Time to ramp up that racing little heart now. Coffee is done. Ladies? Try getting that much fun and excitement out of something as simple as making an earlier than usual cup of coffee. Without this lifestyle? Impossible. I'm blushing and smiling and biting my lip in fun before I yell up.

   "Honey! Coffee's done!"

   Then a pause.

   "Sorry! I forgot! Don't wanna wake the whole house up! My bad!"

   I walked upstairs to see him trying to hide under the covers, handcuffed. Its so cute. The frightened little eyes, the blushed little face. Priceless. I left the door open. Smiling.

   "What's the matter, birthday boy? Aw, you scared you're gonna get caught like this, huh? Hmm. That would be embarrassing. Well, for you, I guess it would. Hmm. I made us coffee. Here…"

   I held it out for him to take it.

   "Oh. That's right. You're all cuffed up. I forgot. Not even ten minutes into learning to use them? I'm already in love with them. Best couple dollars I ever spent. So handy. I'll just set it here, and we'll wait for it to cool. I guess that I'll just have to hold it for you. Hmm."

   I smiled and enjoyed the wait. Then, I finally sipped my coffee when it was cooled down enough I wouldn't burn my lips.

   "You wouldn't want me to burn my lips now, would you. No, I need these lips for later, huh. Here, be careful. Its still a little hot. You're gonna need those lips to use on me, too."

   I took my time and got the whole cup of coffee into us. Then I fed us the second cup. When I went out to pee, and came back… he was fidgeting.

   "Gotta morning pee, huh? Well. Go on. And be careful…"

   I walked in on him looking at the seat down.

   "Good call. Not wanting to make a mess. Let me help you…"

   I lifted the lid, and aimed it for him. Then I flushed and clanked the lid down.

   "Oops! I forgot to watch that noise. What am I even thinking? I gotta watch I don't wake the whole house up, or… well, you know. Go on. Back to bed. Get…"

   I swatted his ass playfully to shoo him back in the bedroom, and I left a conspicuously wide open door.

   I had a little morning fun in bed. Door wide open. No music needed. No clamped hand over his mouth to stifle little noises. He could lay on his back handcuffed, with the double locks it was safe. Slightly uncomfortable, to be sure, but safe.

   I knelt over his face, and had his face on both of my holes. Talking and directing him. I bent down and gave a wet sloppy on him, but never finished. I quit like a huge tease. I shoved him out the door, and told him to be careful going down the steps. I held his forearm carefully and solid. Safety with handling a captive. You're responsible for everything once you have them helpless, and there's no second chance. If you forget, and something as simple as a fall gets them injured? You'd never forgive yourself. So? Never, ever forget the safety. Here, its another level of intimacy. Holding him tight and secure. Telling him its because I love him and don't want him hurt. A lurid description of what could happen, scary thoughts for a little extra fun.

   I smiled like an idiot, watching his bewildered face when I walked him into the kitchen. When he started to lean in and speak urgently, I shushed him.

   "Be quiet. Or, do you need punished right out in the open? Shush. Now sit. I'm making breakfast, its your birthday. God, I'd hate for the girls to catch you like this. You would be so embarrassed. How bad would you blush? I love it when you blush, its so cute. I can't tell you that enough. Hmm. Maybe, mommy decided to come out of the closet on all this. You never know. This is the best way to come out with something kinky like this. You just… let them see, and act like its normal. Show you off like this for breakfast. They're gonna giggle. And point. Tease you. Ha. Now… over easy? Yeah. That's what I want. And you? You're having over easy too."

   I made no effort to control kitchen noise, and looked over and smiled when I dropped a plate, or shoved a cupboard shut with a little smile. I hummed while I started breakfast for him.

   "Over easy. Ha! That's gonna be you a little later, you know that? Think about it. I can bend you over anything I want, anytime I want. Just like that. And you? You… are easy. Very easy. Anything I want, you're so eager to please. Over… easy… so? You get your eggs like that. You like cute wordplay, puns. There you go. You're rubbing off on me, I think. Oops! There's another one. Rubbing off on me. Hmm. Maybe I'll have you hump my leg and finish on it. Then, might as well tell you to clean up your mess. And if you don't do it? Well… we both know what happens then."

   I finished cooking our breakfast for him, and put on a little show. Bending over, shaking my ass. I stood with my feet apart to bend over, to give him a lingering view while I threw a napkin away. Smiled to let him know to enjoy it… then slammed the under the sink cupboard door to the little wastebasket shut.

   "Oops. There I go again. I gotta watch that. I keep forgetting."

   I laid out our breakfast, and sat down and started eating. He couldn't of course. Handcuffed. I fed him a little while, and wiped him with a napkin, like a little toddler. Made mommy jokes. The mommy theme was too good.

   "Girls! Breakfast! Up and at em! Mommy has a surprise for you! Get down here, you lazy whores! Come on! Shake a leg!"

   I sat down and ate more. Smiled at him.

   "Girls! Come on!!"

   I went back to eating, and occasionally putting a fork full into his mouth for him, and wiping his mouth. Laughing.

   "Okay. I was having some serious fun there all morning, wasn't I? Ha. The girls left early. Fishing trip with the two boys for a date. The boys don't want to miss first light, so. Oops, there's another one. First Light? She's gonna catch more than fish on the little fishing camping trip I bet, huh? She asked me what to do for a fun big date. I suggested going camping and getting away. There they go. I just wonder, if the boys will have fun like you did, or if Light will be the one to… whatever. I never heard the girls make jokes, so, probably not."

   He looked at me. Nervous smile.

   "Oh. Number three? She skedaddled off to… who even knows. Yeah, we had the house to ourselves since, what? Before 4am? So, too good to pass it up. Did you like your little scary ride?"

   He did.

   "You were really scared a little there? Thought I actually decided to out us like that? Hmm. I'm rotten. Glad you had fun. And, we got all day. All night. Tomorrow and tomorrow night, too. The girls? Staying at the boy's rooms for their first over niter. The other one? Said don't expect her back for a couple days. I texted to make sure. Oh, and Jay and his buddy, said happy birthday. To have fun. You… having fun already?"

   He said he did.

   "Hmm. Fun's just starting. Go on. Try to eat without your hands. I wanna watch. Go on… we're alone."

   I put my chin on my hand, elbow on the table supporting me. He tried to gingerly get some messy egg and toast, and there was no way. I giggled, and ate my own extra careful, smiling as he saw me pop each bite in my mouth carefully. When I was done, I carefully dabbed the corners of my mouth with a napkin. I walked over to him, then inspected his face and the mess hitting the table top. Time for some scenario fun. Mommy time.

   "What's this? A mess. Your face is one thing, but look at the table top. You see that? More mess. And while we're on the subject, don't think I didn't notice how you don't wipe up carefully after we eat. You have so little chores, and you know what's expected of you, so that's deliberate. Uh huh. So you stay right there. I'll be back. We need to have a little talk. About making a mess. Then, another little talk about cleaning up a mess. Then? We might as well get the dishes talk out of the way too. The dishwasher's spoiled you, and you can't handle that, huh? I'll fix that too. Don't go anywhere. You think you can test me just because its your birthday? Uh uh. I was gonna let wiping up, slide. Let the dishes talk? Slide. But now you go, and make a new mess. I can see what letting you slide, is getting me. I'm gonna fix that right now. You just wait and see. Nice little talk coming about all that. Enjoy."

   I walked upstairs, and brought the long thin switch with me. I swished it a couple times. I put it under his chin.

   "You wanna test me? Fine."

   I moved the dishes to the far side of the table to make room, and told him to bend over the table. Before he could, I showed him the drops of yolk and crumbs, pointing at it and shoving his face in it. Stern mannerisms now. Mean. Pissed off mommy voice. All threats and promises.

   "We'll do things the 1910 way. When little boys like you, knew what happened when they misbehaved. We have no clothes on. Your hands? You know I expect manners. You made a mess, didn't you? Now… lick it up. Every drop, every last crumb. You're going to learn to do things carefully in the kitchen."

   I slid the plate back over. I pushed his nose down in the runny yolk, then rubbed his nose beside the plate.

   "Mess. Lick it up."

   I did it again, more. I laughed and made fun of the situation. Pointed at it sternly, with an even sterner punishment voice.

   "Lick! Every drop, every crumb."

   "Now. I can see you're actually enjoying this…"

   I bopped his interest meter with the long thin switch.

   "Since you're enjoying it so much… enjoy it a little more."

   I held his plate up, smiled. And put it down on the floor. I pointed down at the floor. I got kisses.

   "You wanna eat messy, like a little doggy? Fine. You can be mommy's little doggy. Dig in. I want that plate clean. Every drop. Every crumb. Make it quick."

   I put my feet on his shoulders, and rubbed them around a little.

   "How you doing down there, hmm. You, are gonna learn not to make a mess at the table. Show some manners."

   When he was done, I bent over and looked.

   "Good job on the plate. But you made another mess."

   I took the plate up, and pointed at the unavoidable crumbs and drops of messy yolk that were the obvious and unavoidable result. I pointed at it in front of my bare feet, and ordered him sternly.

   "Lick it up. Every crumb. Every drop. Now! And if I have to tell you twice? Well, what you're about to get will be a lot worse. Get moving."

   When he was done, I brought him up and had him bend over the table once again.

   "Now then. How old are you? 24, right? Yeah. That's 24 birthday swats. Now. Listen carefully. Every swat? I want you to count. One swat. Then two… just like that. All the way up to 24. You will not move. You will not make a sound. Or we'll do it all over again."

   I gave him the first hard birthday swat, and enjoyed hearing my result, followed by the ritual counting.

   "One swat."

   "Good. We'll continue. See if we're getting anywhere, trying to get you to listen carefully to me, when I speak. I hope for your sake, its working. If not? We have all morning to work on it, as you can see."

   I gave him the next one, equally hard. Nice swish noise, nice tight crack on impact.

   "Two swats."

   We continued, all the way up to 24. Then I put my hand on his neck, and held him down so I could get in his ear and hiss at him.

   "You don't listen carefully. That, is the problem. That, is the problem we're trying to correct. I said one swat, just like that. Up to 24. I did not say to switch to swats, from two on up. Are you trying to lecture me on proper English? That's bad manners. You don't correct me. I correct you. Now. When I say swat, I mean swat. Not swats. If I wanted to hear the word swats? I would have said it. Now? All over again. See if you can get it right this time. Let's do it again."

   I repeated it again. Loud swishes, nice tight cracks. He counted each one, and said "swat" after each count. I got my hand on his neck, and was in his ear again.

   "Better. You were told not to move. You did anyways. So we do it again. You're going to learn to listen to what I say, and listen carefully. This is how we're going to accomplish that. Again."

   I repeated his 24 birthday swats, and he counted and said "swat" one more time. From 20 to 24 though, I got some little noises.

   "Better. You almost kept still. Now? You made noises. You were told not to make a sound. Again!"

   We repeated it one more time. I held his neck and hissed in his ear again.

   "Uh uh. Worse. Now, we're moving backwards. Not happening. Moving and noises. Again. Last chance this time. You better get this right, or I swear. You know what will come next. Again!"

   We repeated it again. Naturally there was movement, and some more little noises. My hand back on his neck again, my stern voice in his ear. Ritual. I whispered hoarsely in his ear.

   "Now. You know what comes next. All you had to do, was pay close attention to what I said, and do exactly what I said. No. That was too easy for you. Same as everything else I tell you. You don't listen. You stay still. Let's check the big garbage can. If there's garbage in there? Ooh. I'm going to check the cupboards now too. You know what shelves the plates go on, you know what shelf the glasses and coffee cups go on. I bet they're not where they should be, either. Is it important what shelf they go on? Not really. No. But that's not the point. The whole point is, that you do what you're told. And you don't, do you? Well, let's check. Stay."

   "There we go. Garbage? In the can. I knew without looking. Cupboards? How did I know. How difficult is it. Plates go on one shelf. Cups and glasses go on the other one. That's it. I've had it. You stay right there. You don't want to listen to the polite reminders? Fine. We'll do it your way. I'll be right back. Don't you dare move, you stay right there."

   I went upstairs, and I came down with some pieces of our fun time rope, and several pairs of the new handcuffs.

   "Spread em. Now. Out to the table legs. You wanna move around? I know how to fix that."

   I clicked both handcuffs of a single pair on only one ankle, and tied the little chain to the bottom of the table leg. Then, I repeated it on the other side. His legs were spread nice and wide now. More helpless. I was suddenly reminded of my first chance encounter with this at the pool all those years ago. My first make out boy spreading his to the bench legs. How it became a ritual that got repeated. Naked butt. Ankles spread out to the table legs. Wetness down there came over me. My ritual, and its here again. I smiled, warm all over. The rush.

   "Now. Let's see those hands."

   I put handcuffs doubled on each wrist, then tied the little chains together. Impressing myself with my ingenuity and creativity like this. I tied a piece of rope between the other two table legs taut. I tied the rope holding the two little cuff chains to the taut rope strung between the sturdy table legs. I pulled gently, and drew his hands towards me, stretching him down and out on the table. I hitched it to the taut rope, securing him. I stepped back and admired my craft work. Oh yes, this was more like it.

   "There. You can move around all you want now. And I'm going to make you do the moving. Noises? Uh uh…"

   I shoved a clean dishrag not used yet into the mouth.

   "That comes out? I will tie it in, and I'll go get the other two long switches, and I promise you, I'll whip the skin right off your little ass with all the switches. Test me. You spit that thing out? I dare you. Now then. You were getting 24 birthday smacks. Had to get them several times. Wouldn't sit still, wouldn't keep quiet. Now? You can't count. There's no need anymore. Now? You can't move, so, took care of that for you too. We'll see if you listen to what I say after this."

   I gave him a nice, long switching with my favorite, the long thin one. Lots of burn, and plenty of sting. Red marks that were only surface blemishes. Perfect for extended fun like now. I went non stop, hard and fast, until I got the tears. We took a break, and he got another lecture. Then more. Breaks for lectures and speeches and further threats. Safety first. Breathing breaks. Gag for safety, to prevent vocal cord injury. When I had the twitching and steady tears and sobbing I wanted, another break.

   "Now. It would be all over. But… there's the garbage can. While we're here, we might as well have that little talk too. You like these little talks? You must, we keep having to have them. Now then. About the garbage can. You already know what the problem is."

   I started in again, and stopped for lectures about the garbage can. We moved into the screaming part. Then finally, we were over that "talk".

   "Now. Once again. It would be all over right now, but no. While we're here, we'll go over how the dishes get put away."

   We had that little talk, which carried us into "all cried out". I ran my finger tips over my craft work showing all over his ass cheeks. All burning, all stinging, all the tears and commotion with no underlying tissue damage. Perfection. The thin red lines of the long thin switch, made for raised red lines that were all close together in random patterns. They felt like running my fingers over corduroy. A couple test hand smacks? Brought instant sobs. Again, perfect. A nice long break, and the numb bum would fade. The little pattern of surface markings would replace the red corduroy lines. When it came time for my hand, over the knee? It would be perfect. My hand swats would have the super heroine power that turned me on so much. The power to punish and abuse a little child over your knee with a nice, long, "talk".

   "I'm going to be nice. I'm going to let you go now. And you better listen. You made a mess of tears on this table. When you're let go? You'll clean up your mess. And you know how now, don't you? Uh huh. We'll just leave this stuff on the table, for any future talks we need to have over the next day or two. Trust me, there will be plenty more where this little talk came from? If I don't see immediate improvement. You reading me here? Test me. I dare you."

   I slowly unlocked all the double locks on the cuffs. Wow. A new ritual. It was as good as the slow, methodical tying ritual. Intimate. Personal. Hmm. Then I slowly unlocked one cuff on each limb, then told him how lucky he had been, that he didn't spit the gag out, or that would have been "serious". This? Was not. But it could get serious, real quick, if he gave me the word. Test me. I dare you. Ritual. Our ritual.

   I finally unlocked all the limbs slowly. First both hands. Then a pause, and a final inspection of my craft work. More feeling red corduroy with my fingertips. The warm red skin, already. The fresh sobs from hard hand smacks. Wow. What a rush. Then I unlocked the last ones on the ankles.

   I sat down and crossed my legs, then crossed my arms.

   "Stand up."

   "Much better. I get some results when I speak now. Let's see if that keeps up. Lace your fingers behind your head. Keep them there."

   "Better. See where I'm pointing? Nose on that wall, you're going to stand there, until this whiny shit quits. It better be quick. If I have to listen to too much of it? No reason for me to hear it. Move. Nose on the wall, so I can see your marks. Stay. I'll tell you when you're done."

   I muttered under my breath, and went about making another coffee. I sat and blew on it, sipped it. Admiring the craft work. Ritual. And that warm rush.

   "Now, maybe I can enjoy my coffee, without any interruptions. I'll talk. You? Will listen. It'll be a new concept."

   "Now then. Manners. Mess. You get a gentle reminder? You won't even listen during that. So, we have what we just had. Garbage. Dishes. All right. Get the fuck over here, and see to cleaning this puddle of tears up, before I get it on me. Now. Fingers stay behind your head while you do it. Move."

   I sat and sipped my coffee, giving him the stern smile.

   "I'm in charge. Not you. You'll do well to figure that out. Quickly."

   "Stand facing me. I'm going to talk to you. Mouth shut. Stay still. Or? As you can see, we have all the stuff ready, for another little talk. Stay here, I want to show you something…"

   I took my coffee, and came back with the medium thickness long switch, and laid it on the table.

   "See it? Another talk? Will be identical to this one. Only difference will be, the talk will be conducted with that one. Test me. I dare you."

   "Uh huh. Finally got your attention now. Good. I can see I have to sit here, and watch that you do everything you were supposed to have already done. You'll go upstairs, and get my practice shorts I like seeing you in. Nothing else. Move."

   He came back wearing them.

   "Better. I spoke, you did exactly what I said. See? We're getting somewhere. Slowly, but we're getting there. Another couple little talks like this one maybe we'll actually get somewhere. Now then. Garbage. Take it out. Now. I don't care if it isn't full. You see the giant industrial sized roll of big garbage bags we get? Free. Five year supply. Use them. Or I'll use your ass like I just demonstrated, except longer and harder. Move. Get it done quick."

   Garbage was out and he was back in record time.

   "Now then. Dishes. You clearly have some kind of problem with just loading and unloading the dishwasher properly, and the dishes are going on the wrong shelf. Get all these dishes from breakfast, every single thing except for our coffee cups and the coffee pan, and you'll wash them by hand. Thoroughly. They better be spic and span. Move it. I don't intend to sit here all morning, supervising what should already be done, that you already know should be done correctly. Move!"

   I sat and watched his ass marks, while he did the dishes. I had him run up and get a clean towel.

   "Dry them. One by one. Carefully. Open the cupboard door, leave it open. You'll put them away as you dry them, one by one. Let's see they go on the right shelves. Move."

   "Garbage. Dishes. When I'm sitting here watching it, its perfect. Fucking amazing, ain't it."

   "Get me another coffee. Here. Not one drop, or you'll clean up any drops you make. You will not need told to do it, you will not need told how it gets cleaned up. Now."

   "Good. Sugar. Milk. Do I need to tell you everything? You know how I take it."

   After my sugar and milk, I blew on it, before setting it down.

   "Now then. Tomorrow morning? We'll see what you learned this morning. It will be the same routine. Exactly. You will not make a mess, you will do it carefully. Understood?"

   It was.

   "If we need to have another little talk? It will be with this one, instead. You know it hurts a lot more. You wanna sleep face down for a couple days? Not able to sit down? Fine by me. I'll just tell everyone you had too much to drink for your birthday, you're not used to it, and you can spend a couple days face down in bed. Showing me your damaged little ass. Is that how you want it? Works for me."

   "This is not all some game. We're going to have our own place, as soon as we graduate. I'm not living in some pigsty, like we do here. You see my room, the whole house is going to be like that. Believe me."

   I blew on my new coffee and started a little sip.

   "Tomorrow morning? If there's a mess, you already know what will happen, how the little talk will go, and you can see here exactly what we'll conduct that little talk with. Instead of licking up your drops and crumbs? I'll throw your plate on the floor. And put the plate in the sink. I'll sit here, and I'll eat my breakfast, and I'll watch you eat yours the messy way you want. Off the floor. Every drop, every crumb. Licked. Is that what you want? Yes or no."

   He didn't.

   "I know, right. That would be humiliating. But I'm sick and tired of being humiliated every time someone comes over to the house. You will not have an ass to speak of, if this doesn't get fixed, pretty much immediately. Now… follow me."

   I took my coffee into the living room. With the long medium switch. I swished it now and again. I used it to point with.

   "Fetch the things you see, that you know go into the garbage. I said fetch, I know that you know what that means. So do it correctly. Move it. I'll follow you around, and make sure it's done properly. You want this one used on you? Bend you right over the table in there, not a problem. Mommy's little talk table is all ready to go. Dare me."

   I pointed at things with my switch, and he picked them up with his mouth on all fours, then went and put them into the clean garbage can one at a time. It was only a couple things. When we were done, I reminded him.

   "Now then. Do I really need to tell you to take the garbage out? Its the only reason you have my shorts on. Move."

   "All right. Now? We can get to what we were supposed to be doing in the first place, instead of wasting my time giving you a little talk you needed. Upstairs. Foot of the bed. You're going to dress mommy. We're going to have a little fun workout, like we should have been doing right now. Move. I'll just take this with me…"

   Nice couple swishes. Threat. Ritual.

   "Move. You can impress me, by doing a half decent job dressing me. If not? We'll undress me, every single item. And I'll explain it again. With this. Because that? Seems to get your attention. Go. I'm going to finish my coffee. You'll wait at the foot of the bed. Eyes down. You know how. Those shorts will be off too. You will only be dressed after me. Why? Because… I come first now. Go."

   I sat and finished my coffee, and smiled. Blushing bad. God, this was fun. New rituals. To go with our existing rituals. When I got up, and sat down on the foot of the bed, I got little kisses. I got thanked for what I had done. I got begged not to have to use the long medium one. Then thanked again some more. God, its a blushing good time.

   He did a fairly amazing job of dressing me. I let a few things slide, but I'm telling you it could have been worse.

   When he had fetched my practice clothes and dressed me, he got dressed in my shorts so I could show everyone he was my claimed, steady property. In my practice shirt, too. My mark on him to show the world that I had a steady boyfriend now, that wanted to show everyone he was already owned. By a numbered player that would not be crossed by another girl. I draped my knees over his shoulders, and gave him slow, wet, sloppy kisses.

   "Mm. You get to see mommy's ass dancing in front of you now. Ready to go watch my legs get a pump, watch me get all sweaty for you? You like that, don't you… mm…"

   He did. I knew it, he knew it. Ritual. He knew what to expect when we were done, and he was looking forward to it. Running his tongue all over me. Tasting me. Showering me and pampering me and bathing me. Then, the final long, hot soak for both of us. Where ritual now dictated, I would finally drop the stern mommy act, and we would talk and laugh and have normal time, like a normal couple.

   "All right. I want to run more laps. I don't run as fast as the girls? But I can keep the pace up as long as I have to. You like my leg muscles, I know. This is where they come from. Hmm. You like my legs now, in the off season? Wait till the preseason camp's over. I'm dropping weight, and over training at the same time. Long, double practices. Every day. I stay big, like you like? But… more cut. You like those veins on the Olympic girls, right? I get those, too. My calves show the split better. That third little leg muscle up top of the front of my thighs, that peeks out."

   "Oh god. I can't wait."

   "I'm glad. Not many men would look forward to it. I think most of the guys that even like us? Like the off season legs more. You? Well… you'll get more of a treat, every time you see my legs. The tan will slowly fade, but not go away completely by the end of the season. I hope you like it. Seeing me like that."

   "Like I said, I can't wait."

   "Well. More laps. You get to watch my dancing butt, and my legs. See me sweat. I'll let you know when we do a couple sprint laps at the end. Race me. Push me. Make me drop."

   I set off, and he followed me. Wearing my jogging shoes that fit him perfectly. My jogging shoes. My practice shirt with my number. My practice soccer shorts. My numbers. My marks on his ass too, but that was just for me to know what was under it all. Private, shared, secret markings.

   We ran more than twice or maybe even three times as many laps as yesterday. There were a few other girls out, too. Some, from other townhouses but from my team. A few from other teams. One was from the volleyball team. The one he had asked out and she wouldn't give him the time of day. I enjoyed her seeing him all numbered up in my stuff. You turned him down, how many times again? My groupie now. I snatched up on him. I was showing him off, letting the girls see he was numbered now. Mine. This groupie? Belongs to me now. My dirt bike. As we approached passing her jogging, I couldn't help but have some fun teasing him. I dropped back a step so only he could hear, and I winked just to make sure he knew it was just a fun joke. I had to pant out my line.

   "Eyes on me, mister… only warning you get…"

   A couple basketball girls were out in a tiny group jogging too. I don't think any of them were any of his previous attempts, before coming to me and my closing on his deal. But just as well. A new groupie all numbered up, is gossip. She'd hear about it. Toot had been claimed and numbered. He's living there now. The other girls, like him too. The girls would talk about how we were too sugary sweet, and they would surely make the little gagging noises for jokes. How they had found out he really wasn't at all what everyone had thought he was. The girl's gossip would see to that.

   They had all seen the boys working out in the yard, and that would get around as well. And who was out here with them, and how surprising it was. Mixed with the gossip of how sweet he was to live with, how sweet he was with me, well. They could scratch their fake hair on that count. Mine. You had your chance.

   "Its time…"

   We sprinted to failure, which ended up being three more. Feeling that burn that makes your legs feel like thick, hard tree trunks. Then a little break, and he could watch sweat roll down my skin. He makes me feel gorgeous when his eyes are on me like that. I can't get enough.

   He played high school soccer. So, we went up and down the "field", doing ground passes. I practiced my juggling myself. He wasn't kidding, it wasn't his thing. I had him feed me ground passes, and I practiced shots on the little practice nets. When I'm playing a forward position temporarily, the opportunity could come, and if I could capitalize it was a bonus. Passing off to Right or better yet Little Lightning, little miss two feet, was naturally the preferred option. I have power though, serious power. Just not the accuracy of the other three. I need to be closer to pull the trigger and have a chance. I need to be realistic. I can't afford to be a ball hog, wasting scoring opportunities. Unless I have to take one, I should just get the assist, and feed a star.

   I'm sure Little Lightning is the biggest star on the team, not much of a doubt there. Right isn't but a pinch behind her, and lacks only some of the notoriety that comes from media clip exposure. Those are my team's stars. Most teams have but one, yet we're graced with two at the same time. University athletic teams, must be a lot like solar systems throughout the galaxy.

   You look out from far away, and you simply see the bright light, the star that's shining for all its worth. Just like living on the other side of the country, and seeing the brief clip of the dramatic winning goal, and a girl flying through the air getting hurt bad while doing it. You have to get up close to see that the star has a lot of stuff around it.

   Some solar systems even have two suns, two stars. Not the most common thing in the universe by far, but we have that. Our team can be seen from further away, because of the double light. Get far enough away, and the twin stars blend into what appears to be a single point of light. Come closer, this is really a binary star system. Come closer yet, there's more stuff around both of them.

   I'm not a star, I just feed my stars. I guess that makes me the ball of gas, the thing the stars feed on to get bigger and shine more. From any distance away, I'm invisible. Just like a cloud of gas. Yet, I'm responsible for making the stars shine brighter. Without me, they get dimmer. I wouldn't even know all this, but Wiz has a penchant for watching science documentaries and similar things on cable. Without realizing it, I now find myself tuning into what I used to tune away from, even when watching cable TV alone. He's changing me slowly, and I barely realize it unless I notice it over an elapsed time.

   After another break, a longer one came where we could sit on the wall with my arm around his shoulder, saying hi to girls that came by. You know Wiz? Mine. Yeah, he's the one you saw manhandling the fighters up here putting on a meat show for me and the girls. I didn't have to mention it like any other girl would have done. I just smiled and that was enough. I know. They know. I know they know, and they know that I know it. Just the shit eating grin does it all. And all numbered up now. God, life can be good once in a while.

   I spent the longest time practicing clearing the ball, and empty netters. He had played fullback, I could see that. His one thing, was that he could put the boot to a decent clearing job. He had told me, he couldn't work the ball up to near midfield, then clear a feed to a forward, for a quick shot. No, he'd get out handled and out ran by another opposing forward, and now a star was in possession in the backfield. With one less fullback, and it would be on him. I quizzed him on this.

   "Honey, you want me to lie to you? I sucked."

   "How bad could you have been. You got wind, you can clear the ball."

   He chuckled.

   "You ever see a little kid, and they're moping around. Pouting. They look at you, and go… aw, I can't do anything right. Why bother."

   I smiled. Here comes a sigma specialty. The self deprecating humor. Hey, I'm no threat. Watch me tell you a funny story where I'm the asshole, so you can laugh at me. Hey, I'll laugh with you. I don't take myself seriously. So you don't have to take me seriously. Don't worry, I'm no threat… you don't have to watch out for little old me.

   And? That's how they do it, its that easy. Here it comes, I'm seeing this about him, this many weeks into knowing him and living with him.

   "Seriously, anything I did? Its wrong. Anyone else does the same exact thing? Oh, they're a hero. Example? Ball clearing. Now, as a fullback. I was taught that clearing the ball, to get the ball out of a hot kitchen? Was my number one job. Enemy is in your backfield? In your red zone? Clear the ball, job number one."

   "Hell yeah! And, I just saw you clearing the ball. You ain't played in years? You can still do it half decent. You couldn't have been that bad. Lay a boot on it."

   "That's just it. Anyone else cleared the ball? Oh, good job. They just saved the day. So? I wanna an at-a-boy too. Man, I'd come up and clear that fucking ball, get that damned pigskin almost to their red zone. There. I saved the day, right? Hell no. Best I can hope for, and I guess cause its me, not someone cool… I get that head shaking, disappointment and frown from the coach and assistant coach. Or even yelled at, I'm costing the team chances."

   "How?"

   "Oh. I'm just giving possession away. Why didn't I move the ball up some, then find someone to pass it to."

   I wagged my head.

   "Well… if you can move the ball ten yards first? Ten yards, is ten yards. I mean, let's say you contact the ball as fullback, and you're 70 yards from their net. You go up ten yards? Now you're 60 and closing."

   He looked at me, with his patented little smile and twinkling eyes. The soft voice is coming, this is going to be his sarcasm. He spreads sarcasm, like warm butter on toast. He's good with sarcasm.

   "You know. I never, ever heard that speech, from my own coach and assistant coach, not once? Gee. Thanks for enlightening me."

   I smiled.

   "Go on, then."

   "Well… now I get the ball, and I got a couple feet around me? I move the ball up. 10, 15… maybe 20 yards. Then pass sideways or forwards, to one of the good kids."

   "Okay."

   "No. Now? I get yelled at. Why am I being a ball hog. Do I play wing? No, I'm a fullback. I'm risking mixing it up with fast, slick wings coming in around me. They're gonna get possession, and I'm gonna be up, and they're gonna have an advantage, I shouldn't do that. Why didn't I just clear that ball, that's my job, my job is simple, why can't I get that through my head."

   I calculated and answered.

   "Oh… well, that can be dangerous. Let's say, the other team's Light and Right were near you, but not on you? They're gonna steal your pass. You must have been near the other team's center and wing, and they were dangerous."

   "Well. What should I have done, then."

   "Hey. If you dragged the center and your side's wing, to you? You just created a great thing. You got a lop-side going on, temporarily. Capitalize. Lateral pass, sideways… over to anyone on the other side of the field. That side? Is weak for them. And if you clear the ball now? Yeah, you're just giving possession away, and screwing up that lop-side situation."

   He sighed.

   "That actually makes sense. But, question…"

   "Sure."

   "How the fuck am I supposed to know that?"

   "Your coach tells you this shit."

   "No. He doesn't."

   "Huh?"

   "Our coach, used to play professional soccer. Actually got paid. Way back when? Pittsburgh had a pro soccer team for a few years. Lot of big cities did, they tried having a league. So? He's definitely a former star. He? Works with the kids that look like he looks. Short, not real big. Really cut, really fast. Our wings and centers. He works with them. Assistant coach, who played college soccer? He works with us defensive-men."

   I looked at him.

   "Well. When you were practicing with… the wings? With that coach… you learn how wings operate then, so you know what to do against them."

   "The fuck was I supposed to do then. Trade shirts and wear a wing's number, so I could sneak into that end of the field, and learn the secret information I needed, to do my job and not get yelled at? Or… was I supposed to break into the coach's house and snap pictures of the secret plans, like a spy in a spy movie. Are you sensing my frustration, or… do I need to turn the sarcasm up."

   I just furrowed my brow, and let him go on.

   "So like I said, I do exactly like I'm told. Then? When I do what I'm told… I get yelled at."

   I started over again.

   "Did you play man to man, or zone."

   He looked around, frustrated again.

   "Here we go again. I get yelled at. That? Is your man. You stay on him. You run track, you can stay on his ass. Where he goes, you go. So? I stay on his ass. Then? I get yelled at for staying on him. My enemy wing coming down my side? Moved over to the other side of the field. I follow him, I get yelled at. Now. My other fullback? He comes over on my side… he's doing a great job, staying on his man. I do what I'm told? I get yelled at. Anyone else does anything? Great job, cool kid."

   "Well… man to man, shifts to zone… in this case? The other center, is in the center. They get you to stay on your man, go over… that center comes over your side open now. Now, they got a wing and a center, on a side not covered. Two run and gun shooters on the goalie? You're fucked. That's a goalie's worst nightmare."

   "Once again. How the fuck am I supposed to know this secret information."

   "Are you being serious?"

   "Yeah. I am. See, obviously you were one of the cool kids. Allowed to touch the ball. Anything you do? Oh, its wonderful. You move the ball up? Oh, see. You showed initiative. You were aggressive. Good job, cool kid. I try to move the ball? I'm a ball hog. I'm not one of the cool kids, allowed to touch the cool thing, the ball. Now, if I clear it? I should have passed it or moved it up. Why didn't I do that. If I passed it, well… I should have cleared it."

   I laughed, he had to be making a joke. From the look on his face, the way he was studying my own face… I stopped laughing. He wasn't kidding. He just got quiet. Studied my face, looked at my body. Christ. I'm getting the once over. He's studying my facial expressions, studying my body language. He's sizing me up. Its cold, its dispassionate. The MP, is deciding if I'm a "threat" or not. Seeing if I'm in on it. Making fun of him. He wants to know if I'm in on the big soccer conspiracy. I just immediately shut up, and turned off all body language as best I could. I suddenly felt like he must have… I have no idea what to do right now, and whatever I do? Might well be the wrong thing. He finally smiled warm and gentle, and spoke quietly.

   "See? You were one of the cool kids. You were passed the secret information you needed. Did you follow the rules, when you were given the secret cool kids information?"

   "What rules…"

   He smiled, and it was genuine. Back to making jokes about it.

   "Never share it with anyone we don't want playing with the cool kids."

   He laughed easily about it, he had his other sports. I'm fairly highly rated for my main job of fullback. For a girl, I get a great long clear. For control, you're supposed to use the instep on the ball. Not the toe like you're kicking a field goal, and even those guys mostly use the instep for control now. It didn't bother him if his girl could instep clear soccer style for control, as far as he could manage toe on football style, for the extra distance. I didn't have to pretend to be the little girl, and feed his ego. He wouldn't have that. He smiled and egged me on.

   He had his one trick though, I give him that. A still shot? He could take a few steps, and bury a toe shot and it didn't go wild, like you would expect. He must have practiced that a lot, and on his own time. For the extra distance when clearing. It surprised me, when it went over my head when he would do it. He said he did it in games, even though he wasn't listening to practice instructions. He just wanted a couple great goal to goal clearing shots, so he had something to call his own.

   "Let me ask you something, Wiz."

   "Anything."

   "Now… you're a bright guy. I figure you were a bright kid. How do you figure, everyone else has this… secret cool kids information, so they're allowed to play. And you don't have it. I mean, look at this from my point of view. Help me out here."

   He smiled. He turned to look at me, and was full of mirth.

   "Hun? If I could tell you that, don't you think I'd have known where to get the information everyone else had? I'm not making fun of you, just… try to be logical."

   I had to stop and regroup. What he said, made perfect sense.

   "Okay. You played… pee wee soccer."

   "Yeah."

   "What… did you do at practice."

   "Run a lot of laps. Coaches always said, that if your team runs more? The other team doesn't. You can smoke them, for being tougher. That fun coaches lose, and hard coaches win. So? We ran a lot of laps. And… we played all those little skills games. The squirrels and the nuts was one. You give the games cute names for the kids to play and learn."

   "Right. Basic skills. Then, you go to the next level of pee wee soccer, right?"

   "Naturally."

   "Where you learn more skills, and start to learn strategy."

   He smiled.

   "More laps. Juggling, for coordination. Passing accurately. How to play keep away, one on one. How to steal the ball, one on one. Yeah. I did… okay at all that."

   "Then… as you move up… when does this situation suddenly happen. You suddenly go from being allowed to play, doing fine? To… secret information and getting yelled at no matter what you do. I'm having trouble following this. Take me through the play levels. First pee wee, on up to high school."

   "Well. First grade? You're all out there bumping all cute into each other. There's more pee wee leagues. Then one day? No more little kids soccer. Couple years go by, we didn't have a junior high soccer team. Had to wait a couple years, to join the high school soccer team again. Then? Well… we know how that went."

   "What about the traveling team. Every town that has a gap like that, there's some intramural league to fill the gap. I played on the traveling team for a couple years, until I got to junior high."

   "Oh. That league. See, let me explain how sports go."

   "Yeah, because I don't know anything about sports…"

   He smiled, and it was genuine.

   "Do you want me to explain it? Or… I'm happy to just let it pass over. No harm, no foul. I? Am quite content, letting my girlfriend be one of the cool kids. Doesn't bother me, I have my own shit to do now. Stuff that all you… cool kids? Can't do. I'm adult about it, though. Here I am. Major university, big sports star jocks coming to get tutored. Do I return that favor, and keep the cool kids information from those same jocks like they did to kids like me? No. I freely share my cool information, with them."

   I was stopped cold. There it was again. He's studying me. I get that little shiver. I'm being glanced up and down, to see if I'm fucking with him or not. I ain't, but… there it is. I passed. He's smiling again, and quits studying me like I'm an insect under his magnifying glass. I both like and love him, and everything about him? And I still don't like that couple seconds of being studied. He loves and treasures me, so I can't even imagine what it would be like to be actually up to something, and get sized up like an opponent. Not a good feeling though, I'm sure.

   There's two sets of personality collection systems. The one, is alpha, beta, etc etc. The other, has 4 letter acronyms to label them. There's four criteria, and either of two letters to indicate. You choose basically left or right for each letter, and just line those 4 letters up. For example? Introverted or extroverted. So, that spot gets an I or an E. This creates a nomenclature, that every personality fits into one of them. Another is a T or an F. Representing thinking or feeling.

   His, for instance? He's an INTJ. One of the rarest if not the rarest, personality types. Thinkers, not feelers. Introverted everything, not extroverted or coming in from without. They're quite content to be quiet in a group setting. They look and study everything. Intently. They're well known for what is called the INTJ stare. To them, of course you look at the thing you're looking at, gee whiz. To other personality types? Which is almost everyone else, by the way… it comes across as a cold, dispassionate stare. Same as anyone looking intently at some bug. Because that's what INTJ's do. Stay out of everything, sit back, and study everything. Figuring out the system and over analyzing simply everything. No detail is to be considered too small to worry about. It might matter. No big picture can be ignored. All the little details, will when correctly analyzed? Corroborate the big picture going on. They study the system, any system, from top to bottom. From inside out, and from all possible angles. By default, they're automatically all intellectuals.

   These guys end up crowding high tech fields, and all the engineering disciplines. Really any field that requires specialized expert knowledge that is not easily acquired and even then takes a long time? They're in. They're down for it. These are the planners. The longer it takes to get there? The happier they are to put that work in to get there. Then, they smile and they're contented. Because this is how they rate and assign value to themselves? Naturally, they judge everyone else by the same metrics. That's another letter. Judgmental or nonjudgmental. They judge. Touch-y feel-y people? Are sneered at internally. They're the lightweights. These people are the heavyweights in their STEM fields. They do the heavy lifting. When you see a notebook full of complicated equations, when you see those big, complicated blueprints and schematics… there's always an INTJ or an ENTJ close by handling that.

   The introverted and inward INTJs, let the ENTJs, the extroverts, deal with outsiders. The ENTJs smile and nod approvingly at all the INTJs they work with. Work your magic, friend. I got this. I can deal with all those lightweights, even though I hate them too. With bosses and outsiders squared away? The -NTJ's go back to work. Dealing with the details and the big plan. When dealing with the outside world? The ENTJs take the lead roles. When back to their own little world, alone again? The INTJs assume the reins. Neither one is jealous or thinks the other type is a lesser being. You'll typically find for such a STEM team, mostly INTJ's and one or more ENTJs. When the suits and big bosses have one engineer coming into the board room to explain in layman's terms, what's going on? ENTJ, every time. Reporting on the teams progress? Always an ENTJ.

   To the outside world? The ENTJs will tend to be team leaders, for this reason. They seem like they're more successful, or doing better, or know more. Not so. They just understand the outside world, and can speak the layman's lightweight language. To the outside world, they're easier to deal with. The ENTJ? Is the one remora, running with a small pack of sharks.

   What's weird to the outside world, is what success means. To most of the world? More money and higher position, is more success. Not so to these -NTJs. Ability, is the biggest asset. Intellectual ability. INTJs, will routinely choose jobs and teams and projects, not based on money and position, but on how difficult and exclusive its considered. Success is measured by how few people can do it well. And, if you're the only one who can do it? Well, then you're the best. Owning the company, is no great feat to these guys. Not unless you're one of the exclusive heavyweight intellectuals? That invented it or improved and perfected it.

   If an unwise intellectual lightweight owner or boss insists on micromanaging things he doesn't understand, he risks the best INTJs packing their shit and leaving for greener pastures. They're happier somewhere else, for less money. Working on a bigger and cooler and more impressive project. You lure these guys to your company? By promising them new, impressive projects that everyone thinks can't be accomplished. You retain them, by backing off, and just politely dealing with the ENTJ who can report to the board. Scientists and engineers, who make really good money, but not the millions the salesmen and big bosses and owners make. Without these INTJs and their view of success? You don't have internet, cell phones, laptops and high tech gadgetry. If they all disappeared overnight? We go back in time to caveman status again.

   Its disconcerting. INTJs routinely shut off all emotion naturally, to look at everything from an intellectual standpoint.

   Knowing all this? Still doesn't make me like that cold once over stare.

   "I asked, I meant it. Why didn't you play on the intramural team, to fill the gap."

   "Well. If I'm allowed to explain? I will. My parents made me play every sport in pee wee. Good at it or not. Every sport, one by one this happens. You hit a league? Where they come right out and tell you. You? Will never play. We're past the point, that every kid gets to play. They're not shy about it. Its about winning now? And we're not losing games, putting someone that ain't no good in. If you want me to tell your parents this? I will. The coaches do this."

   I didn't say anything. It does come down to that.

   "When I started asking about the… intramural soccer team, from my town? To fill the gap."

   "Yeah…"

   He was quiet. Factual. Like an MP telling you the truth, politely and quietly.

   "You had to get this… piece of paper. To fill out, and pay a fee and join. Nobody would take it to a copier and give me a copy to fill out."

   "Well. Where did the other kids get that paper from?"

   He smiled again.

   "Gee. There you go again. Asking me things, that if I knew? I would have went and got the piece of paper. I don't know where the magic sheet of paper comes from. And none of the kids would give me one. Or tell me. Obviously? The paper, is only for the cool kids."

   "So… you took that as a sign…"

   He smiled and chuckled.

   "Well. Did it seem like a good omen, for great things to come, with me in the soccer sports world?"

   "Hmm. Question."

   "Yes."

   "Well, if you thought you were being… weeded out…"

   "And you admit, it sure seemed like it."

   "I'll grant you that. So, why do you play high school soccer a couple of years later, then."

   "I'm running junior high track. I get recruited. Hey, you run track. You used to play soccer. We're low on players."

   "So, you made the team then."

   "Oh. We were a little shit school. We didn't have tryouts for soccer. If you wanna go out for soccer? You just go out. Only the football team had tryouts. Remember. We're technically double A? With only single A number of kids. Whole school's athletic program, is born to lose. Until they… re-did the A things. Years after I left? They did that once every 10 years count, and… my high school got into A, where it belonged all along."

   I was puzzled.

   "So. Follow my reasoning here. You were asked to play. Because… you ran track, and they knew you played back in the day. And I'm guessing they needed kids."

   "Doesn't mean I'm any good, does it?"

   "How long did you stick it out?"

   "Eighth grade, you're allowed to play for the high school team. Kept it up, till almost 11th grade. Then? I quit. Went and did my own thing. Fuck team sports. See. It doesn't matter how good I am or not, doing stuff in practice. If I don't get to play, and when I'm put in, I just get screamed at for not knowing the cool kid secret knowledge? Fuck it."

   "So… what did you do?"

   "Ran track. Concentrated on my 10K runs I enjoyed anyways. Worked out on my own. I decided, for whatever reason? I can't play team sports. Now. Track? Running long distance. There's me, there's my time. End of story. I was always something of a loner anyways. I was never all that happy with team sports. The sport itself might be okay? But… dealing with all the other kids? And its sports, so… these are the cool kids."

   "Well… I'm around you here and now. You have all the basic skills, you should have been playing."

   "Like what?"

   "You have a nice, long aimed clearing shot. You're not a sprinter, like a great wing, but… you can definitely keep running forever. Yeah, fullback. You can pass okay, for a small high school. You're actually not that bad at playing keep away, one on one. I mean, I'm the high school coach? You should have been playing. At least some."

   He smiled, and laughed.

   "Welcome to my world. My whole childhood and young adulthood was like this. I do what everyone else does, what works for them? The harder I work, the harder I try… the worse things go. In a classroom, on a computer keyboard. Its me? And I'm fine when its just me. You throw a team into the mix? Something happens, and I don't know what it is. You just give up eventually."

   I waited a bit.

   "When did this change. Because it did."

   He paused.

   "The MPs. I don't know what the hell happened. God I guess, finally looked down, and said. Okay. I'm done torturing you. You? Are allowed to do good now. Because up until that moment? It was mostly all torture. I got there? Everything went good."

   "You said you had a… mentor."

   "Yeah. I talked about it all with him."

   "What did he say about all this."

   "Honestly? The universe has a place for everyone. You let the universe put you, where it wants you. Where and when it needs you. And when you're finally in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing? You'll just know it."

   "Is that all he said?"

   "No. We were sitting there. I'd told him about the… cool kids, secret information I wasn't allowed to have access to. He laughed. He whispered in my ear. Forget about it. You're one of the cool kids now. He asked me, if any secret information was being kept from me."

   "And?"

   He paused.

   "I told him no. It sure didn't seem like it. I asked him. What had been going on before. Why was it so different now. He said, and I quote. You finally let the universe put you where you needed to be."

   "And… how did that feel…"

   He smiled.

   "Like… some kid that grew up in the orphanage? Finally had a home. It was like being a part of a family, for the first time."

   "But… it was a team."

   "It was. But… instead of being the one loner on the team, and nothing going good? It was like some switch got flipped. Like god finally decided, I was now allowed to succeed. I quit asking questions at that point. I just… jumped in, and enjoyed it."

   "I'm a psych student. I like to analyze these things. Now, one day? Someone might bring me a kid. They only bring you a kid having problems. They almost never bring you a kid doing great. Why… do you think this was like it was."

   "Well. I think we both realize. The… secret information? I was supposed to have gotten it, playing on the traveling team for those couple years. Strategy, to go with the basic skills we'd been working on. That I seemed like I had, by the way."

   "Yeah. Go on."

   He paused. He looked off before responding. He talked now, while looking away. As if studying the horizon.

   "A team sport? Its a team. Now… there isn't a lot anyone can do. If the other kids don't like one of the kids. At some point? The parents won't be around. The teacher won't be around. And… that's the name of that tune. Nothing you can do about it. It didn't matter, if I was good enough to meet the minimum, to get to play on that traveling team, hun. The other kids? Obviously didn't want me there, and were going to have fun hiding that piece of paper. Fuck me over. Maybe the coach told them to do it, I wasn't good enough. Maybe? They just didn't like me, and did it on their own. In the end, it didn't matter. I was kept out for a couple years, when I would have gotten to learn the secret cool kids information."

   I paused again.

   "How long did… all this kind of stuff go on?"

   "Whole childhood. There was always something different about me. Things were always different for me. How do you think a loner, gets to become a loner? Do you think the kid wakes up one day, and says… hey. I'm going to be a loner. That seems like fun. Nope. It… just gets thrust on you."

   "But… it changed. Overnight, it seems like."

   "Yeah. It did. I was hoping my psych girlfriend could tell me why. Now here you are. Asking me. You want my take on it?"

   "Sure."

   "Don't know. All I know? Is overnight. Someone waved a magic wand. All of a sudden? Not only was I allowed on the team? The guys that played on that team, wouldn't take no for an answer. They just… took me out, and made me hang out with them. The one guy, that started it. He was in my apartment, with four of us living there. He was a… squad leader. Now, instead of being excluded from the team, I was being kind of forced onto the team."

   "What did the mentor say."

   "He said there's no asking why. It just is. I said… but this is an accident. I'm a computer guy. He said… yeah, obviously the universe decided a computer guy, should hang out with the MPs. I asked, but why. He said? How the hell can I tell you that. It just is."

   "So, you're life changed. Overnight."

   "Pretty much."

   "Did… your mentor give you any… answers?"

   "Not really answers. He gets you to ask the right questions, I think. He said, I was clearly meant to be a computer and books guy, that's obvious. For whatever reason? The universe wanted me to be a loner, and not fit in on teams. Why? Who knows, but that's what the universe wanted. Now? The universe wants you on this team, that much is obvious. Then, late in the game? We decided maybe I was supposed to go back and go to college after all. Here I am."

   "What's your… purpose in all this. He give you that?"

   He chuckled.

   "That part's pretty basic. Always, try to put out good karma. And… just try to let the universe put you where it wants you."

   "Well, how do you know… when you're there."

   He shrugged.

   "It just feels right. You don't have that… salmon swimming upstream feeling. I can tell you, that's what I felt my whole childhood. Like a salmon trying to swim upstream. Like it was gonna kill me to get there. That's what trying not to be a loner when I was young felt like. That's what… trying to force myself on a team, felt like."

   "Then the MPs happened…"

   "Yep. That feeling went away."

   "It started to come back, though…"

   "Near the end? Yeah. But, just a little bit."

   "Now you're here."

   He smiled, and nodded. Finally quit talking to the distant horizon, and looked back at me.

   "Yep. Hun? You were meant to play soccer. I mean, that much is clear to you, right?"

   "Uh. I guess. It gets me my degrees. Nice apartment while I do it."

   "Do you feel like a salmon swimming upstream? Or…"

   "I guess not."

   "Good for you. We're just kites on the wind. You? Were meant to be flown in a gentle breeze. Here you are. Me? I was meant to get the string broke in a storm, and blow around until the universe put the kite where it should have been. Which was with the MPs. Now I'm here. Now? I feel like I'm up, in a gentle breeze again. You feel like you're in the right place, here and now?"

   "I guess. Sure."

   "Me too. I don't know what the purpose is? So don't ask me. If the universe has something for me, that its been preparing me to do? It will let me know. Right now, it seems to be here, going through college. Right now? You. All I know. It just is."

   "And you just accept it."

   "Sure. Look at my childhood, young adulthood. Then, compare it to the MPs. Night and day. The mentor was right. When you're where you're supposed to be, doing what you're supposed to be doing? You just know it. It feels right. It almost decides itself, for you. Now I look at you. All those problems dating. Even had the… Latina success? Wasn't perfect. Relationship, no sex. Sex? But no relationship. Now, there's you. Once again? All advice, wasn't working. I just chucked all the rule books and advice, and… let the wind take me."

   "Okay…"

   "You? Climbed right up that tree, and tied a string onto me, and now you fly me. You're that little kid, that wanted that kite. Once again. Like a magic wand was waved, practically overnight? Third date. I'm your girlfriend now. Oh, by the way? We're going steady. No other girl is allowed to look at you. Oh hey, one more thing. You wanna go to grad school, right? Great, me too. I'll just tell you when its time to marry me. Don't worry about how to please me, I'll just tell you what I want, what I need. Hey. I ain't asking any questions. I can just tell. Like I said, it almost decides itself."

   Wow. He's telling me, that his life was all hell and chaos. Until the MPs got a hold of him. Now? He's here… and his personal life was in chaos, until I found him. Now? He's at peace. Now, he's happy. Now? He has that gentle breeze, lifting the kite feeling again. Things are perfect, just like when the MPs found him and took him in. He's telling me, he's in love, he feels loved, and he's perfectly happy. All jocks are streetwise. When things are going great? Shut up, smile, pretend like you meant for it to happen and take the win. When you got it right, its like the ball just puts itself in the net for you.

   Fuck it. I know when to just shut my mouth, and take the win. I held my hand out. He took it. And like he said, it felt right. Somewhere, there's a website. Probably telling guys… no. You take her hand. You don't let her offer you her hand. You turn that hand down, until you decide to put yours out, then she takes yours. Be the man, don't fuck that up. He didn't listen to that website. He just took my offered hand, and we were fine.

   I'm an athlete. To hell with how or why. Ball's in the net.

   I'm breaking a newer pair of soccer spikes in slowly. I can't afford to get my feet ripped up and be limping when preseason torture camp comes. After jogging, I got my old soccer spikes out, glad I hadn't tossed them. My shoes fit him perfect. My size 12 in men's sizes, always got me teased as a younger girl. By girls as well as boys. I'm over it, but it used to be a sore spot. Like anyone with an old sore spot healed over, the blister finally gets a layer of hard skin over it. He likes wearing my shoes, he likes big girls and he all but brags about it. Again, he makes me feel gorgeous if only to him, for all the same things I'm less in every other set of eyes for.

   Another long break, and I wanted some keep away practice. A guy that played high school even a little bit, is great to practice with. Guys can knock us girls around, and they have more reaction speed and power than we do, hands down. No getting out of being a female, and any girl that kids herself, or allows herself to get kidded into thinking otherwise? Well, just as Jay had related. Men died because some girl wanted to play infantry soldier and never should have tried. He lost a friend because of her stupidity, and the system's insanity. A man would have went to jail or at least been thrown out with dishonor, for complete cowardice in a combat job. Getting others killed at the same time? She should be in jail or thrown out dishonorably. Nope. Nothing. Probably got a fucking medal for crying and hiding bravely, knowing how shit really works.

   So having a guy bump me, hip me, shove with weight while trying to get my ball off of me? Priceless. I have to up my ball control game to counter it. I get to practice moving a strong guy that's a little taller and bigger than me, and I have to really work at it. We knocked each other on our asses a few times, and he neither smirked, nor fawned over me. Smirking, was a guy showing the girl her place. Ha ha, I'm the man, bitch. Remember it. Fawning? Aw, you poor little thing. He just helped me up, or me him, and we went back to it. Nothing. That's priceless too.

   He had one more little surprise. He had some keep away game. He must have practiced it a lot back in the day, trying to get good and slowly figuring out it just wasn't in the cards. He could roll the ball with his foot on top in all directions, like a magician doing three card Monte. Which way she going, guys… and he had a good rotation and whirl to go with it. A good sense of putting his hip or butt against me just right to rotate and move me gently.

   Then I got to practice steals. He guards the ball stationary and I come in and try to get the ball. Cupping a leg around it, scissoring into it and rolling. I showed him how I wanted to practice taking him down, to get the ball on "accident". He let me slide into a missed ball scissor, and accidentally scissor and roll him over and I could roll back on the ball and get up and go. He was great at falling, he never posted a stiff arm to the turf, and could roll on a hip and shoulder and do it all day. He made me keep it up, until I was tired of it. I have elastic leg covers, they look like ace bandages. To let me practice slide moves, one on each leg.

   After a couple hours total, we were dripping wet, soaked through, and we were laughing arm in arm back to the wall and cold drinks. Talking, laughing. Planning what I wanted in the future with this. Another surprise? He could walk on his hands like I did, something I kept from gymnastics and tumbling when I was little and mom was still trying to girly girl me up. Awesome shoulder and arm workout, better balance than a human being should have. We walked, we raced, then we played the tip game. You each try to move the other off their hands, while staying up. People that watched us practicing here and there got their show. I got this, from gymnastics and tumbling when little. He got it from the kick-boxers.

   It was finally time to go back in now. I had been craving this before I started. I didn't towel off a drop, and smiled. I took him in the kitchen, and kissed him at the counter a little. Wet, slow, sloppy. Saliva everywhere. Slutty. I pointed at the garbage can and smiled. Then smacked him smartly across the cheek. I pointed at the dish cupboard and dishwasher. I used the other hand to do the other side, smiling. Now more wet, slow, sloppy kisses.

   "Gentle reminder… mm…"

   Kiss talking, during greedy kissing. Oh god. How wet I'm getting is a crime. I walked him around, kissing like this. Making noises. I pointed at the table, and his "little talk" station. More kissing. I backed up tongues on mouths, to the steps. I walked backwards up, not daring to stop the wet, slutty action. Oh god, when we finally have our own place in a few years, to ourselves. I will die from pleasure like this. He had to grab me once or twice to keep me upright, back stepping up the steps. I stopped him, with my finger on his lips.

   "Stop it."

   We were about to enter my zone now. Where I'm in charge and he likes it.

   "Good boy. Now, we've been practicing you dressing me, and undressing me, for a while now. I told you, by your birthday, you have to decide. If you want to make this a regular thing. Don't let a little embarrassment keep you from something you enjoy, just go with it. Its our secret, its just for us. Or, tell the truth and tell me its not working out, and I don't want you doing something you don't love just to please me. No penalty, either way. Just… go for it. If you need time…"

   "I want it."

   "I thought so, but I can't influence you on stuff like this. Its about me getting what I want, when I want it. But only things that are offered, and given freely. I need a victim, or I'm dominant of nothing. But the victim has to be willing. Do you freely offer this, and give it to me?"

   "I do."

   "All right. Get in there and get ready for me."

   I came in. I got my kisses. I got thanked for doing this and adding it in. I moved the long medium switch to close at hand.

   "That's just in case I need it. We had some issues this morning, didn't we. You can make some of that up to me, right here, right now. Let's see how you do, without being told. This is your big chance to impress me."

   He did a great job, really. I had to practically make stuff up, to get a few things re-done. Honestly, I just wanted to feel it coming off again, even slower. Of course, I was letting a few thing slide. For now. I reminded him, that in the future after some point, he would be responsible for doing this right. Fairly severe punishments would be handed out, for not taking this as seriously as he needed to. This was going to be my fantasy that he fulfilled.

   This was such an intimate, individualistic ritual we were creating, that it was unreal. I had read other dressing and undressing scenarios, and they were nothing like this. Its basically, the girl or guy gets dressed and undressed, on command or at a set schedule. Nothing like all this. Licking my body was a thing, and even sweaty as well. But not all wrapped up in this thing like it all was. This was… intimate pair bonding.

   I let the initial little kisses go on a little bit. Kisses on my spikes, then my socks, were okay, but… this was a mainstay. I stood up, my shorts then I stepped out, my panties then I stepped out. My T shirt. He piled them up where they went. Ritual. I was still wet, and I knew I was salty. My standing tongue bath seemed to last forever. I finally sat and got more kisses, then we played fetch with my dirty panties and socks, and for quite a long time. I smiled, and giggled at having him do tricks. Sit up. Beg. Roll over. Lay. Now fetch.

   I told him where to get another box I hadn't told him about. He pushed it over with his nose on all fours. I blushed. No fetch command needed. He was eager to please me, trying so hard. I was touched. I opened the little box in front of him, and took out another present I hadn't told him about. It was a leather collar. It was a blemish too, the color of the thick oiled leather had come out blotched. Fully functional though, just mild cosmetics that affected nothing.

   When one day we could afford new stuff, I would keep these. I never wanted to be like girls that had starter engagement rings, then later on they were traded up for the better ones. That was such shit. If it was the cost of the ring? That was shit. Bubble gum on a piece of tape should suffice, if its the meaning. He wasn't this devoted to me in such a short and intense ride to here, because I had money. Or connections. Nor because I impressed every guy by being a conventional trophy. I was a 4 or 5 to the world at large; I was a 8 to 9 only to him. What would I ever want new toys for that were cosmetically perfect? These would be played in for years by then. Sentimental attachment should overcome all thoughts of cosmetic prestige.

   Dirty Blemishes, was the company name. They specialized in buying large lots of the blems. Surface coatings were off? Blem. Surface finish or scratches? Factory seconds. This stuff was highly overpriced normally. These people must have OCD if a scratch on metal, or a mark stamped twice or blurry mattered. Chrome chain on black cuffs. Black chain ending up on chrome plated cuffs in error. For the price of one pair of high quality handcuffs, at boutique prices? I had a stack of them, like pancakes. They were each unique, and flawed and still perfectly functional. Just like we were. They "fit" us too well to ever replace. Who cares if one side plate is chrome and the rest black, or vice versa.

   The collar had a rounded end that came through slits, instead of the more normal straight metal pin that went into holes and folded. Thick, well oiled leather. Serious rivets on thick metal plated hardware. A little lock with keys, to secure the adjustment. Once in it, he couldn't take it off until I unlocked it and released him. I could leave him at home in our room, and he couldn't come out of the room for love nor money for fear of letting our secret out, for embarrassment. I could go to a class, and know he was stuck in our room, unable to leave as surely as if I handcuffed and tied him helpless.

   Extra safety key, was in a glass ampule thing. Kind of a glass bottle with no opening. If left home, he could break the glass ampule to get out in case of emergency like a fire or whatnot. But, he better have a good reason to use it. If I came home and the glass was broken, and no emergency was apparent, it would be his ass.

   "Read it. The little tag."

   "Slut. I belong to Hurry."

   "Uh huh. Look, my number's on there too. At the bottom…"

   He hugged and kissed me. I had gotten the number put on in his precious ASCII code on his back. It looked like a serial number, but we would both know it wasn't.

   "I didn't know what name to put on it. Toot. Wiz… then I realized, a groupie is almost like calling them a slut. You're my groupie. A permanent one, but still a groupie. So? You're my permanent slut. A slut, does anything they're asked to do. Like you. No shame. No embarrassment. So. That's you now, when we're alone. You? Are my own personal slut. Do you like it?"

   He did. I plopped my knees over his shoulders, and kissed him for a while. Putting it slowly onto him the whole time. Locking it on him. Then, we played fetch some more.

   "Now. We had some little problems this morning, didn't we? Uh huh. You're doing very well though. You're a good shower and bath performance away, from getting close to where we would have started out, so keep it up. Now, there's just the one thing. I told you. The socks? Are going to be a gentle punishment. I can't just ignore this morning had to happen you know. Now, if you would rather have this long medium switch used instead, that's fine. I have no problem with that, but… I want to try a gentler reminder. Now, I've worked up a really good sweat, so… open up…"

   I rolled the used practice socks up, and shoved them in, and told him if he didn't need the bandanna, it would be a lot better for him. I kissed his neck and face, while tickling him. I gave him ten minutes by the clock, before I told him he was done, and he could get them out.

   "Now. Go get the bar of soap. We need twenty minutes for that. You need to know what that does to you. So you know to avoid it. Go on."

   He brought back the soap, and I put it in his mouth. Then I tied the bandanna over it to hold it in.

   "Yeah. Twenty minutes? Is going to really let you know how effective this old fashioned standby really worked. You'll see. There's a reason there's all the old stories about mean moms using it for long periods on misbehaving children. You think it didn't work? A mommy like that would just have used a nice, thick belt or a good switch on their naked ass. This works, as you'll see. And its a lot less work for me."

   I watched him go through it, as it hit him. The soap gets wet, and foams up more over time. Every passing minute is more and more per minute. The outside layer of soap goes wet and gooey, and coats the inside of the mouth, and it gets worse. It crawls around, and it threatens to get the throat. It starts to burn.

   "Shh. Lean forward. I know. But you have to learn. Don't lean back, or you'll regret it."

   I had read all there was to be found, about the soap in the mouth 1910 era punishment. Oldie but a goody. Actual punishment. Easy for me to do, no work. Humiliation factor built in. After a long one? I could threaten to wash his mouth out with soap, and get instant attention from the threat. They said to start out short, a demonstration. The next one? 10 or twenty minutes was an excellent start. The burning would hit five minutes in, and the remaining 15 minutes would grow and become torture.

   Tickling here and there made it worse. Sucking air got the burn and sting to hit the throat. Taste and smell are highly interrelated, and it would feel like soap burning his nose, too. By ten minutes in, I had to threaten to cuff him up, and that if I had to, it would stay in a lot longer. The whining was followed by the tearing up. Not pain tears, it was uncontrollable. I hugged him

   "Aw. Shh… another ten minutes, and it'll be over. Then you can be good for me."

   I kissed and licked tears, and tickled and bit and licked the neck on either sides, making it far worse. Laughing seductively into his neck and ear.

   The last five minutes were all crying and sobbing, which I shushed and kissed tears for. I teased him when the twenty minutes were up. I didn't know, could have only been 15. I don't know, what's with all the noise and moving around, you were already told not to move and make noise when being punished, or do you get more. Did he want the full hour? Another 40 minutes. Did he want me to leave it in until it slowly dissipated on its own.

   He begged with expressions, he pleaded with unintelligible noise, he sobbed, he cried. I gave him an extra 5 minutes, and threatened much more. Tickling him bad for those last extra 5 minutes. Intensifying it.

   "Now. Have you learned you're lesson?"

   He was sure of it.

   "All right. Let's get this off you. Go on, and rinse your mouth out. Take your time. When you're better, come back and we'll get on mommy's shower. And remember, you need to get a win here. You're this close… to getting back into my good graces. You want to be on my good side for tonight, right? You want the fun things, I'm assuming. Yes? Okay… go. Take your time. When you get back? No more licking and coughing and faces. Take all the time you need. Go on. Come back when you think you can do a good bath time. Brush your teeth too, and gargle toothpaste. That will help. Go."

   When he finally came back, I put my knees over his shoulders and gave him a long time of wet, sloppy, slow kisses. We kissed into the shower.

   "Go on. Get everything ready. Maybe, you can be good now. We'll see. Mommy wants to be good to you, she doesn't want to punish you. Now get going, and get it all ready. Shoo."

   Starting to use my soft mommy voice now. I'm rotten, that I enjoy this. I sent him for two juice glasses of crushed ice and apricot brandy for us, too. I had him set it by the tub. This would be a record setting, long hot soak for us. Alone and unhurried. I had him get the bath first, then start the shower and get it ready. I sent him for a box I had candles in with matches ready. Incense. I put candles up, and incense over the sink edge for ash to fall harmlessly into the sink. I lit everything and dimmed the lights. The atmosphere for our shower was fantastic. The smell of vanilla incense, both our favorite, permeated. By the time the bath soak hit, it would be heaven.

   It was my best shower yet. I was actually a little sore and leaned my hands on the wall, and enjoyed just lifting a foot now and again, or giving him a hand then the other. Soaped. Soap rubbed. Every inch of me. Rinsed. Again on his own initiative. Another rinse, slower. After a much longer and slower soap rubbing. The rough loofah. Exfoliating oil with the little crunchy things in it, head to toe. Hair washed, twice, rinsed, brushed back. Moisturized twice, more brushing gentle and accurate. He had it down pat. He liked pleasing me. He liked hearing my purrs of delight at this day spa pampering. My all over moisturizing, my skin oil. Oh god. I moaned from it. He never touched me sexually once, yet still gave me this much pleasure.

   I was practicing for preseason torture, and still leaning into the wall, my legs spread a little and my hands supporting me. I let the hot water fall over me, as he kept inching up the temperature as high as we could stand it. Reddening my shoulders and back. I felt his hands up my thighs to my hips. I peeked down. He wanted peed on. Good Christ. I smiled, and did it. Shook my head and went back into my reverie without moving. When it was time I was going to wash him at the end finally, he put me back for more hot water, and stood in the corner, and did it himself inside of a couple minutes, quick. This was practice for me. When I wouldn't feel like moving after barely getting home. He rinsed off quickly, while I was getting out. I did another incense stick, then two more. Fuck it.

   He was right there, and he put me in the bath. I could barely get in, but just managed from the heat it still had. He started the jets and I closed my eyes for my next spa treatment. The foot rub, the leg rub, then the neck and shoulders. The hair brushed back after a scalp massage. Heaven would never live up to this, if I ever made it there. I was far too naughty now to be given admission, I was sure. He asked if there was anything else before he got in. Hmm. I showed him how to use the stone on my feet, and where to use it. Explaining how it kept my feet smooth, so I didn't get ugly things on my feet from wearing soccer spikes hours a day. My feet might be big, but they're still feminine enough.

   He went and got all our practice clothes up and in the washer, lid up waiting for the towels and washrags. He finally joined me, and grabbed the two drinks for us. We used the soap ledge for the little juice glasses. I drank both, and every other sip was for him. I had one for me, the next was kissed to him. This way we each had a glass to relax, and he had a bowl of ice and the bottle in case we wanted to relax more. We ended up with a refill of ice and brandy. He handled it like every other thing, and I just had to sit and purr. He started tipping the glass up to my lips for me, I didn't have to move. In my mind, no woman could conceivably have it any better.

   I draped my arms over him, my legs over his and my feet down inside his legs. Our position. Our ritual. All uniquely our very own, and no one else. I idly kissed his neck or shoulder as all but an automatic nervous tic. Now, the talking. We had the most time we would ever have for a while, save for perhaps some holiday we stayed for.

   "So. Have you been enjoying your birthday."

   "Christ yes."

   "Mm. And how did you like the early morning… scary ride?"

   "Oh Jesus. I thought…"

   I laughed into his neck

   "I know. That, just fell into my lap. The girls left early. I caught it when I sneaked out to pee, the rest is history. You thought, the girls were coming down to find you, and you were my breakfast, huh? Ha."

   "That… was mean."

   "I know. I'm going to hell for that one."

   "Just when I thought it was all a practical joke, then you called them down? My stomach did a flip flop."

   I chuckled into his neck.

   "I got lucky. Now, you asked for a stern mommy. Did you get her? Was she as mean a mommy as you wanted…"

   "Oh, Jesus. You? Are too good a this. You? Are enjoying this way too much."

   I clung softly to him. I love this part, the regular talk. I am The Hurricane, after all. A storm passes in, then there's this part, the gentle eye of the hurricane. Then the other half of the storm coming, but that's later. Then? The storm dies down to a normal rain, and everything just gets wet after that, with no more fury.

   "I am. I do. Guilty? Very."

   "My one buddy got a big TV for his birthday."

   "We have a big TV. What do we need another one for."

   "I know. This? Way better. I can't even brag. I feel like I'll burst."

   "Aw. We're not even done yet. There's still special treats. After my massage. Maybe something, but nothing finished, you understand. I already told you, there's going to be movie night. With a twist. Naughty movie night. Living room."

   "Ooh. What's playing."

   "Hmm. You'll see. Mommy recorded a little something on her phone. You, are going to watch porn. But… mommy is your porn star. You? Are going to blush so bad when you watch. I'm gonna love it."

   "Wow."

   "Uh huh. Oh, there's more. I can't spoil the surprise? We have a little return trip. To the land of mommy correcting you some more. The kitchen. Don't ask. You won't miss it. It'll be something fucking else, I promise you. You asked for it. A real mistress. I saw a wild scenario. Ever since the first little humiliation, you kept asking for more, so…"

   "Hmm."

   "I know. The more humiliating it is, and you like it… the more embarrassed you are. The more ashamed you are for enjoying it. You get warm and tingly all over. Its our secret. Our naughty secret. You don't have to be ashamed with me. Never."

   "Okay. I feel, so…"

   "I told you before. Some very powerful people? Want this at home. Its some kind of escape. Most submissive people? Are very non-submissive in their daily life. As weird as this will sound? You're very… normal that way, believe it or not."

   "Ha. We're normal."

   "In that sense. Maybe not in other ways, but that one? Yes, surprisingly."

   Another shoulder kiss.

   "I love this tub. I'll never be without a big tub like this, ever. If I have to live in an old garage? There will be a tub like this, believe it. If I have to skimp on windows, I'll have it. You could put this tub in the yard, because we live in a tent? I'll get in it. Fuck the neighbors."

   "Watch your sass, dear. You will never, and I mean ever, fuck a neighbor."

   "I'm sorry."

   "I'm just teasing. This is normal time. You can be a smart ass, I like it."

   "What's in the box?"

   "Oh. Another cheap surprise. That you will never forget your first time. I promise."

   "Give me a hint."

   "Hmm. A hint. I am going to both embarrass, and humiliate you, like you never thought possible. I know you, you'll be terrified of anyone ever hearing a word about what I do to you, believe it."

   "Worse than anyone finds out out I go over your knee, and I like it?"

   "Yep. Oh, another thing. I told you, its your birthday. You get special treats. I'm going to ask you to… park in the rear. Even though you don't have to."

   "Oh, wow. You don't have to. You've done enough, and there's still more."

   "I want you to. I'm even going to finally ask… for a little more that way, if you take my hint."

   "You think you can do that now?"

   "Mm. I can relax quicker now. I wanna… see what its like. Just a little rougher. Girls talk about liking it once they get used to it. I would say once can't hurt, but there's a joke, right?"

   "If you're sure."

   I kissed his neck, and smiled.

   "Oh. I'm sure. It… fits into my scenario, trust me. Why ask why, right? Just go with it."

   "If you say so."

   "Oh. I do, I do."

   "And… basement?"

   "Pffft. Chair, basement. Definitely. If nothing else happened tonight? That's a given."

   "Its hot."

   "That gets hotter, too. You'll see."

   "Are you some kind of… amateur porn star now?"

   I laughed into his neck.

   "I'm a naughty, dominant girlfriend. Millionaire escort. Why not a porn star, too. Just for you. Our naughty secret."

   "You forgot mistress in there."

   "Yeah. The table talking to? The chores? You have a mistress now, for special occasions. You? Get a lot of very expensive treats, little boy. I hope you're worth it."

   "I hope I am. You spoil me."

   "Hmm. You spoil me, too. Trust me."

   "I could stay here all night. I love it, just like this."

   "We can stay here as long as we want. Till we turn into little prunes. We have all night, tomorrow, tomorrow night. Lets keep the hot water topped up."

   "Okay. You're behind us. Can you hit the drain…"

   I felt. There it was.

   "Okay. You gotta do the hot water. Not too much. Go a little at a time…"

   By releasing a little water, and putting in bursts of the hot, we got it back up to skin reddening pleasure. The jets made it our little hot tub.

   "Some more brandy?"

   "Are you trying to get mommy drunk?"

   "Maybe just a little bit."

   "Hmm. What's your plan."

   "Well. I'm gonna blush, but…"

   "Go for it."

   "The third date in the woods?"

   "The third time is the charm. Yes."

   "You had some apricot brandy. And you really cut loose. The third time you did it hard…"

   "Oh. Yeah."

   "Can't hurt then."

   "Hmm. Actually, it could hurt more then…"

   We laughed. It was funny.

   "You know what I mean."

   "Conventional safety with Domestic Discipline? You watch alcohol and drugs. A glass of wine to get in the mood, is great. A drunk dominant, a drunk submissive? Not recommended. Remember, this is all based on 1910 discipline. The days when child abuse was actual discipline. A drunk parent, a misbehaving child. The parent cuts loose… you can see what can happen."

   "Mm. A little of that, you know."

   "Remember. The fantasy, needs to be… not something dove into. Remember what happened that first time. We both went a little bit too far, which just happened to end up okay. Doesn't mean we don't need to be cautious."

   "After so far? Cautious isn't really in our vocabulary tonight."

   "If you want your mommy to have a couple drinks, so she can loosen up even more than this morning? Be careful what you wish for, little boy. You still have things coming, and you have no idea what they are yet. Then, there's still over my knee at the end. And I have to top last time."

   We stayed and had another glass of brandy.

   We finally hit the point we were in too hot of water for too long, and didn't want to really get out, but you can't stay in hot water forever. We reluctantly got out, and I stood and leaned on the sink for my drying off. Lifting my feet and doing nothing else. I looked down at him. Gave him the look.

   "Ooh."

   "Ask. You want disciplined, child abuse style 1910 discipline? You want it from a mommy had a little too much to drink and really gives it to you? Go on. Beg for it. See what you get."

   I winked.

   "I fucking dare you. Go ahead. Test me. You want every time to be like that first night? You want it like that again? Go on. Here. Fill my glass. No ice. I'm gonna show you now. Do it! Tired of playing this game."

   I winked again.

   "What's the matter. Called your bluff. You scared now?"

   "Nervous. Yeah, a little scared."

   I leaned down.

   "That's because you should be. That's it. Fill both glasses. No ice. Now. Move. Its done, that's it now."

   He filled both glasses after dumping the ice into the hot bath before releasing the water and shutting the jets off. He knelt down in front of me and handed one to me. I took both. I drained one, then the other.

   "Fuck it. And now? You'll start paying for that. Soon. You? Go get yours. Do it."

   He filled both little juice glasses up, and under my demands, slowly sipped and drained them. I was in mode now.

   "All right. Enough fucking around already. Towels and washrags. In the washer. Get them washing. Now."

   He ran and complied, and was back giving little kisses.

   "Yeah. Great. That's not saving you now. Enough. Get the candles. Bring the incense. Fresh towel on my bed. Move it. Let's go. Bring the glasses, and the bottle, and the bowl of ice. Don't make me ask you again. Shoo."

   When I turned out the lights, smiling, I walked into the bedroom. He had the candles and incense going, and the lights off. My fresh towel was on the bed, and he was on the floor at the foot of the bed.

   "Kisses later. Get my massage going. Make it a good one. You haven't screwed up yet, you want to keep it there. Trust me. I, will tell you, when the massage is over. When you get to my ass? You know what to do. Don't risk me having to tell you what to do with your slutty little tongue. Every time you go over my ass massage? Do it. And do it well. When you're on the front of me? Don't even think about touching my twat, and be gentle with my nipples. You? Have been warned. Get started. You want treated like a slut? I'll treat you like a slut. You'll see. Lets go! Chop chop."

   I got a nice, long full body massage, and he tongue fucked me back there without needing prompted any further. I wasn't very drunk, just drunk with power. After a long time I abruptly stopped him.

   "Now. You saw what's on the table downstairs. At the drop of a hat? I got more cuffs in my stack, I can make a little talking to station up here on the bed. Give me one single reason? I'll make one up here too. And you'll go on it, and I'll whip the skin right off your little ass. Test me. You asked for it rougher. Fine. Now you're going to suffer the consequences. You'll see later. Now then… get the baby oil. It's time. I want my ass fucked. A little rougher and quicker than normal. Get to it. Hurt mommy a little. Warning you though. You go too far, too fast, anything like that? The skin comes off your ass. You keep that in mind. Now get moving. I wanna see what all these turbo-whores are raving about. I'd say we don't have all night? But… we do. Make me feel it."

   He lubed me and him up, and started gingerly. He was nervous, I could feel it. I could sense it. I had to goad him into it. It was true, I was able to relax just enough to let it happen without as much pain, but it was still uncomfortable.

   "More."

   I started out laying flat, my legs spread wide. When it started happening, I did like I had recently for hard from behind. I got up on my knees, and spread my knees, my feet and shins pointing a little inwards.

   I found my corner of blanket. I ate it. I forced some more in, and bit on it. I reached back for his hands, and after holding hands for a little, I squeezed his hand to let him know it was all right. Then I put his hands on my hips. He finally got his first full stroke on, and I was squealing with my mouth full of my corner blanket sandwich I fed myself to keep from yelling.

   I looked back at him. Eyes half slits. A little mouse in a mouse cage, taking it quick and hard. My noises, muffled by the blanket I ate greedily, came through. Each stroke brought it. I let him see me tearing up and puckering with a mouth I had self-filled with blanket.

   "Mm… mm… mm…"

   Then I winked with an eye that drove a tear out, and put my cheek on the bed and let it happen. I nodded so he could see me nodding my head, to go for it. He finally picked up speed, as I was fully relaxed now. He gripped my hips and used me. I wanted to feel what it was like to be a whore, a little slut, used for my hole. I got it. If curiosity kills the cat, well, this just killed my hole. I teared up and screamed into my blanket, short little ones in time with the banging I was getting now.

   "MM… MM… MM…"

   I had to wink and nod, scraping my cheek on the bedclothes, so he wouldn't be scared to finish. I finally reached a hand back, and he squeezed my hand again. I brought it up and around and put it in between the front of my legs.

   He put his slick oiled finger to my clit, and played with me. My breathing was already ragged and got worse. I screamed and moaned into my corner of blanket snack and finally came. Then I just nodded more so he wouldn't quit, and whimpered into the bedclothes while he finished it out. A couple more minutes of pitiful noises while I felt the delivery. Hot, wet, gooey. It would squirt in, a little thrust and again, until it was well milked and done. He moved gently while I whimpered into the bedclothes, while he went slowly a little soft and gently retracted.

   I finally took my corner of blanket that I was eating and biting for dear life out, and whispered to him before continuing with my dying whimpering display.

   "Its okay… just… hold me. Shush me… tell me its going to be okay. Until I'm… please…"

   I slowly dropped flat from up on my knees, and brought my legs more together. I still ate my blanket, and used it to hide my teary eyes and puckered up face. A few little sobs he could feel wrack though me. I'd take it out and whisper it was okay, please just hold me, tell me it'll be okay… then I begged for it, and went back to my blanket and its security it somehow gave me.

   He held me. He rubbed his hands on me. He told me "shh", how it was all over, how it would be okay now. I finally rolled over to face him now, and he held me and kept it up, until I was better and could speak. The extra drinks that were hitting me, had helped and allowed this to happen. I realized why girls taking it like this, were associated with being drunken whores. It helped you relax, it deadened the discomfort and what pain it still generated. Sexual pain though, and the feeling of being used rough. An advanced version of me liking it bent over and taken hard in my twat and railed for everything I had. Just as I liked that once in a while? Less often but still every once in a while, this.

   When I could finally trust myself to do normal speech, I gave him a little smile. He smoothed my wet hair, and kissed me. Assuring me it was all over, how well I had done, and it would be fine now. I smiled more and nodded. Then?

   "Thank you. You wanna know a secret now?"

   He nodded.

   I whispered in his ear.

   "Remember it. You? Are going to pay for that. Later. That's why I wanted it. Don't even ask. You won't miss it. You'll just know."

   He nodded.

   After we sipped some brandy, and I had composed myself fully? It was time for something new.

   "All right. Movie time. Naughty movie time. You? Couch. I'll be down."

   He was on the couch, and I walked in. I had a little beach bag with me. It had sentimental value. My first rough encounter I was in charge of? This bag. Same one that had accompanied me, among other things, to the third date in the woods. It now held a few things.

   "Hi."

   "Hello yourself."

   "Naughty movie night, huh?"

   "Oh yeah."

   I just stood there, smiling.

   "What's in the bag?"

   "Stuff. You'll see. Here… put these on. In front…"

   I tossed him a pair of handcuffs from out of the bag, and he cuffed himself for me in front. I came over and tightened them a click each, then did the double lock, then took the key back. Smiled and winked.

   I sat down next to him, bag on my other side to keep it all a surprise. I reached in and brought out my cell phone.

   "Here. Do your… TV trick?"

   "Screen-casting."

   I put the voice on instantly.

   "Watch the sass. You've been told, you know. I'm in charge, when its naughty fun time. We're naked. You? Are in handcuffs. So. You don't sass me. Talk over me. Interrupt me. Or? Correct me. I, will correct you. And right now? If you only knew. You, would watch your mouth."

   He was sorry.

   "Fuck sorry. You don't do it. Then? No need for sorry. Sorry is for when you do it, then sorry is the bullshit afterwards. You want sorry? Don't worry. We'll get to that part, where you're really sorry. So don't correct me again. Don't say a word, just hand me my phone back, if I can play it now."

   I selected a photo and it came up, full size on the screen. I could swipe through boo boo butt pictures now.

   "Naughty movie night. Watch. See if it gets you going. I like seeing it."

   It was his over the knee in the basement a couple weeks ago. From beforehand, to after the end. I had put the phone up with a view of the action, and had video in high def, and sound. It began playing.

   "And? Story time. I know how you just love your naughty stories. Here's one for you. You get proof at the end. Just listen."

   "Okay."

   "When I was young, you know I grew up on a farm. Farm kids are all in this farm organization. The kids part, you get first a chicken. You groom and wash this chicken. Its treated like a treasured pet. Its a damn show chicken. At the county fairs? We show these chickens. Its the first animal you do like that. Every year, you move up. You care for and groom and show… a goat. A sheep. You're working your way up to the cow, the last one. Now, this is okay. But, it gets old. Not that I didn't like it, or like the animals. But… other people are doing other things."

   "For instance, while you're constantly cleaning dried sheep shit, out of a woolly sheep's fur constantly? A fun procedure, let me tell you. You wet it with warm water, and you pick these greasy clay bits of clinging shit, grown into the fur out… then wash it… you get the idea. There are things slightly more fun than that, am I right? Yeah."

   "Other kids, are showing horses. Putting on demonstrations. They? Get credit for what you get, for just riding their horse around some barrels. Lots more fun, than digging greasy sheep shit out from under your nails. Catching my drift here? I wanted to do one of the demonstrations, not pick sheep shit. I mean, go figure."

   "There are stars that put on demonstrations for the crowds. While you're showing off your well groomed show sheep. Some of them? Quite unique. You weren't into the farm thing, so I doubt you ever heard of the Caballeras. Been to county fairs? You know the shows they put on, off and on, all day and night."

   He nodded.

   "But you probably never saw or heard of, the Caballeras. You speak Spanish. Know the word Caballero?"

   "Heard it, not ringing a bell. Sorry."

   "Don't be. I'll give you sorry, more than once, later on. Don't have to force it. A Caballero is the Spanish word, for gentleman. In farm and cowboy and western, it carries the connotation that a Caballero is a gentleman cowboy. Not the cowboy worker, the rancher. The gentleman. He owns the ranch, he rides around on the horse, overseeing things. Right?"

   He nodded.

   "Good. There are Spanish words for cowgirl. Mexican Spanish words. Got into the western vocabulary. Among the Mexican cowgirl words are… let me see… Escaramuza, Charra and Vaquera. Crowd favorite? One of the traveling demonstration shows. Three girls, in Mexican… cowgirl fantasy outfits. They would come out, and put on a demonstration. They had bullwhips. Now, these girls would do fancy tricks. Crack crack crack crack… four cans go flying, lickety split. Accuracy. Loud cracks. Power. One could use two at once, hitting targets, sending things flying. Another one? Could grab things with hers. She could wrap it around something like a small stump, and move it. She would move all kinds of things with it. She could pick up things in one circle, and drop them into the other circle, the target. Sound like something you would cheer?"

   "I'll give you three guesses."

   "Uh huh. I figured. All the guys loved this show. Farm girls. All with dark tans. Looked like something out of a movie. They were all Americans, but supposed to look like Mexican farm girls. The final part of the show, they all competed. Who could knock more things over, more accurately. For accuracy, for time. A final contest."

   "I'm… getting a mental image. Trust me."

   "I? Will just bet. So, that was their stage names. Collectively? The Caballeras. There is no such word, its the lady version of gentleman, Caballero. They're supposed to be… lady equivalents. Dressed in leather outfits, the works. The Mexican words for cowgirl? Were their stage names. Escaramuza, Charra and Vaquera. Now, as a young kid, you see this show. Its a real farm you live on. There are whips around. We had a big old bullwhip in the rafters in the storage in the barn. I got it out, I cleaned it. I oiled it, I rubbed it, I worked it and got it going. Not the best, mind you. A low end old one. I refurbished it. Now, bored? I would practice hitting cans, trying to move a little chunk of small wood, move a paint can. I got to be able to do it. Some."

   "Just so you know? I am so hot right now. You have no idea how hot."

   "I'm guessing that would be the case. So. I'm 14. I see the Caballeras at all three county fairs. We lived in more or less the middle of the three counties meeting. We watched all three, every year. I would see these girls put on their show, all three times. Caballeras, have a sign up on their… traveling trailer they use. Any female, who can actually use a real bullwhip, and wants to try out? Can."

   "No…"

   "Yes. Vaquera, this is her last year. Graduating college. You're auditioning, for Vaquera's spot. I'm technically too young, but, I'm tall. I'm filled out. These girls have the look. Tall, look the part, and the outfits finish the look off. Like something out of a cowboy movie. Imagine the wife of the Caballero Spanish rancher gentleman, dies and the wife is now the rich rancher, how she might look in a cowboy movie. Like that. I pass audition number one. I can hit stuff. I can move a few things. Not like Vaquera, but still. I can do something. I'm tall. I'm tan. I guess I'm just cute enough, they want my second audition, to model the outfit. Vaquera's outfit had adjustable buckles to fit her outfit all over. They get me adjusted in it, and they agree, I don't look bad. My dad is shaking his head at this."

   "Another audition?"

   "Some girls are older, way more beautiful. Look great in the outfit, but… can't use a bullwhip for shit. They just swing it around and flap into things. They can't crack it, they can't do shit. I can. I'm tall enough, they want to do my hair, and makeup, and see me play with the other two, in a closed tent, a private show for audition. Naturally, the owner of the show is sweet talking my dad. Well, I can't hold a candle to these other two, they've been doing this professionally for years now. Instead of fucking around with chickens and cows and goats and cleaning shit out of a sheep's fur? They spend all their time practicing for this big show once a year, and hit all the county fairs. More than our three, like ten others. Dates are all staggered, so all the performers can move around and make them all. Only so many county fair performers. I get full credit for all the farm organization stuff, too. No more sheep shit, all year I just practice my show."

   "Oh my god."

   "All I have to do. Is keep practicing, and next year? If I don't get fat or whatever, I'm the new Vaquera."

   "Please please please… give me my happy ending."

   "Oh. You know it. So. I love you. You? Are my special private property. I have secrets on you, that you would die if I told anyone. You? Have secrets on me, that I would die if you let it out. Love. Trust. We share a secret… compulsion. It is your birthday. When you're done watching yourself bawling like a slut over my knee? Next video will be hot."

   He watched to the end, blushing. Shy. I was giving him speeches, and giving him something to cry for now. I pointed and giggled. Teased him. He got so red, it was unreal.

   "Ready?"

   "I will die happy."

   "Enjoy… naughty movie might. Here's a proud dad, operating a video camera, and he bought a zoom lens just to get the closeups. Have fun. Feel free to kneel at my feet, and kiss them in between the videos."

   I pressed play after swiping up the first one.

   "My first show."

   He watched, in rapture. Mouth hanging open. Practically drooling. When the video was over, I told him he could give kisses now. He did. He wouldn't stop. We both had a buzz settled in now, and he was… I don't know. Beside himself. Kisses and licks and begging and thanking.

   "Uh huh. Next…"

   This went on through a series of little movies. That had been cut from the longer one of every show my dad taped of his little performing monkey.

   Between every short movie, I didn't have to ask. He gave kisses, and licks, and practically humped my leg. I smiled and acted bored, and made him sit. When it was all over? The last one was a full performance, no editing. My last show. I was about as good as the other girls. Then? I explained I went away to college. It was easy to see, it was me.

   "No one knew, we had stage names. I was embarrassed. Remember, I had my compulsions, this did nothing to stop it. Quite the reverse. Way more fun than picking sheep shit out of fur, and I got full credit for the program. When I told you I had a hookup on the hay pile one night? My little cowboy wanted his butt smacked with a belt? And he wouldn't say uncle. Maybe… this makes it make just a teeny bit more sense why he would come right out and ask me. Hmm?"

   "Oh yeah. Makes it way more easy to picture now."

   "Right. So… questions time. Does… Vaquera have any, oh I don't know. Fans?"

   Kisses and licks, again about humping my leg. I smiled and kept pushing him down.

   "See why you're handcuffed?"

   "Yes. I could just…"

   "Uh huh. Have any questions? For meeting Vaquera. Fantasy Mexican cowgirl performer."

   "Oh my god. You… can handle a bullwhip. Professionally?"

   "Did we watch the same videos? Dumb question. Next?"

   "Do… you still have that… outfit?"

   He was begging. Alternating between kisses and licks, and praying hands kneeling, pleading.

   "No. Property of the owner of the show. Very expensive adjustable leather outfit. Truly, one of a kind. I do still have the boots, though. Those over the knee, lace up things. I was so tall, I had to wear the low heels, The other girls had to wear high heels for theirs."

   "Do the boots… fit?"

   "Yes. Don't have them with me. I go home and grab those boots out of storage? Daddy will raise his eyebrows at me. And when you suddenly show up on my arm at the next holiday dinner… well… take it from there. Little girl. Former professional bullwhip show. New boy. Comes to get the boots. Daddy? 6'6"… You? Can grab a guy like that by the head, and whip him around. Can you even see, where the holiday dinner, will get off to a quite rousing start? But yes. I will eventually get the boots out of storage, when they're on vacation… you can see me in my boots and my spurs. Got the hat, too. Now. In the basement, I'll have my boots and my spurs, and the hat. That enough of the outfit? I might be wearing nothing else."

   "I will… please please please."

   "Okay, okay… it will happen? When it happens. Next question."

   "Well, do you still have the…"

   I stood up. Used the voice suddenly. He blushed, bad.

   "Hand me the bottle. Fill up the glasses. Both. You? Get one too. Move. Don't talk, just do it."

   He handed me mine, and had his. I grabbed the bag, and stuck my hand in. I sipped my brandy and let the empty bag fall, and out came my wicked looking bullwhip.

   "This? Is not the one I played at home with. This… is the real deal. Its a custom handmade. Heavy plaited full grain bullwhip. The long one, this is not the shit you see in the naughty bookstores, the bullshit on the internet. Those are thin leather, short. Not weighted, not balanced, short as shit. This? Is the real fucking deal. It has leather shot, woven into the leather… its not braiding, they call it plaiting. To you? Its special braiding. The length, the weight, the balance, the power. Its unreal."

   I sipped my drink, smiling quite lasciviously.

   "Next question? Vaquera is taking requests."

   "Can… I see you… use it?"

   "Go get the empty pop cans out of the little garbage can under the sink. About all that's in there. Bring them out."

   "Now. You. Down into the main basement. I need some room to show you this thing. We can't go outside. Next trip to the woods? Yeah, I'll put on a show for you. Basement. Move."

   He about sailed and flew down the steps. I topped my drink up, and took me and my custom bullwhip all coiled up down the steps slowly. I was still naked, carrying a glass of cheap apricot brandy in one hand, my whip in the other.

   "You. Set up the cans. Along that wall. Space them out. Then? Come back here behind me. This thing? Is more dangerous than you could imagine. I could destroy the TV set. I could break a car window. You could lose an eye, that's no exaggeration. It can shred an eyeball out of the head. It happens."

   "I love you so much right now, you have no idea."

   "You love Vaquera."

   "Anything you say right now. Anything."

   "I'm short on room. But just enough. There are three basic moves. The first? I lay it on from the side, or any other direction. Watch a slow one. The can on the right? Back over, behind that pole. I need swing…"

   He retreated and peeked around the pole like a little kid, smiling.

   I swung it around a little, and the end came into the side of the can, and sent it flying. Can was crumpled, and it was a light hit. I was barely moving the thing.

   "That? Is about the gentlest, laying on the side possible. With open room? Like… out in the woods? I can show you full power. Second move. The wraparound. Move away from that pole, over there…"

   I directed him pointing with the whip and he moved quick. I smiled. I came around once, way more power, and it wrapped up around the pole. It began unwrapping, then I retracted.

   Get that paint can. Put it there. Back off… I will move it to there. Right to the pole, my target. I wrapped it around the paint can, and it instantly slid and stopped next to the pole, where I called it. It unwrapped and I retracted.

   "Now the last move, the dramatic one everyone thinks of. The lash."

   I snapped it once. Out front. Hard, fast. The resounding loud noise sounded like a gun going off. I'm used to it from way back, always makes the new ones jump. He jumped. I smiled. Then I set off a series of several cracks out in front, one after another. I was still holding my drink. He stared open mouthed, seeing my arm coming out artfully. My foot planted, other back, one arm back some, leaning, the works.

   "Wow… what's more than in love? That's me right now."

   "Cans."

   I rattled off every can, and they went flying. I hit them all. Several were cut in two, most were unraveled, like they had blown up. Little pieces of stray aluminum crinkled and came to rest. I bowed.

   He came up to me and knelt, and I put my feet together for kisses and licks. Hands up my legs. Tongue coming up from my ankles to my thighs and all over. Looking up at me with those doe eyes. I expected this. I smiled, shrugged, took a big drink and finished the glass off.

   "Oh. You worship Vaquera now, huh? Lucky me. Oh. Let me guess. You're imagining, what? Don't ask."

   "Just one? Come on."

   "Honey? Let me explain. Me and the girls, we were curious. There was a dead deer at a fairgrounds, they hauled it off out back and dumped it. We get there and set up and practice before the place is open to the public. We were curious. In the old movies? People get bull-whipped to death. We called bullshit. Now. A freshly dead deer? We wanted to see. Morbid, but… what could it do."

   "And?"

   "It rips the flesh open. Deep, like a knife. Shreds meat, pieces hang off of the gouge it makes. When you get one on the ribs? It skins an area, and you see the ribs, and the lungs underneath. You get one between the ribs? It simply rips the lungs right open, like a sword cut. Yeah. I can kill someone with this. Its that deadly. We about shit ourselves."

   "Wow… more in love with you, every passing second."

   "Next guess. Did I ever use it on a human being. Yes."

   "And…"

   "Me and the girls. We have a travel trailer, makeup station, the works. We get there early, and leave after the place packs up. Parties, for all the workers and people showing. As you can imagine. Bonfires, beer. Shenanigans. Guy I was with. Actually? The one I mentioned. The one that begged for the belt? And refused to say uncle, I had to quit on my own? Him. He's following me around like a puppy dog. Maybe you know the type. Anyways… fire. Beer. After midnight. Some girl starts with her yap. Next thing I know. That guy, I guess my… boyfriend for the stay? Whatever. My hookup. Him and this guy are into it. Big asshole guy, my guy is decent sized, but this is a gorilla farm boy. Trying to be the king asshole. My guy's getting hurt."

   "I ran over and jumped on this ape, and I get backhanded off, and knocked down. I got a split lip. I am fucking pissed. I ain't no girly girl, I said fuck this shit… had this thing with me, someone wanted to see us girls play for them. We were hitting beer cans for the crowd. They explode bigger than the 22 shooting them. Yeah. I snapped it a couple times, and he didn't quit. I got him once? Opened his arm up. Blood everywhere. He thought he was gonna come after me, uh uh. I opened up on him, and I bloodied his ass. I had him in a ball, screaming and covering up, and people are scared to get near to get me, like I got a gun and I'm shooting."

   "We're beyond love now, we're moving into worship…"

   "And no, I can't really use it on you. I know that's where this is going."

   "Just once?"

   "Do you have any idea, what a bloody welt will look like? I'm talking one shot on your ass, one good crack. Not even a particularly hard one, mind you. About the lightest that will still make the crack? Once. The lightest crack. You… will scream and cower. Just one. We're not talking scary ride. We're talking actual fear. Screaming. Crying. Instant, just one, the lightest possible. The mark? Will be teardrop shaped, big irony there. It will be dripping blood. Still want one?"

   "Mm."

   "Don't."

   "Just one?"

   "I need your ass in one piece, literally by the way… for over the knee. This? Will fuck that up. It will fuck you up."

   "Don't hit my ass then?"

   "Then where do you want it. You tell me."

   "There has to be some…"

   "Give me your hands."

   I unlocked one wrist, and re-cuffed him around the pole.

   "Hold the pole. And you better stay still. I'll just lay it on your back. Gentle, like the first can. You can feel the lightest coming in from the side. Ready? I'll give you a couple love taps. Hold the pole. Stand up straight. Don't move."

   I laid an easy one that just tapped his back. I got dancing, whining, tears.

   I went into mode, and grabbed his drink, and approached him and smiled. Pointed at the pole. At the handcuffs.

   "Showtime. Sorry? Is now. Correct me again."

   I backed off and did it again, another side laying. Trying to get away. Crying.

   "Stand up. I'll tell you when we're done."

   I got pleading and begging now.

   "First, you're begging and pleading for some. Now? Uh uh. Stand still. This is gonna be something…"

   I gave him three in a row, harder, though not nearly anything resembling full power. The first hit, I instantly retracted into the second one faster, and retracted back into the even faster yet third one. Screaming, crying, kneeling, begging and pleading. I coiled up and walked up. Smiling.

   "Sorry time."

   I walked back, and did five like that, each a hair faster and harder, and he ended up on the ground, sobbing.

   "Get up. Or I'll do you down there. You won't like it. Stand up. We're almost done, it doesn't take long. You need a couple lashes."

   I coaxed him up with the whip touching him

   "Up… up… up up up… that's it. Stay. You move? You get more. Test me."

   I went to straight on from behind. I flicked out and landed a decent lash of the lightest possible to still get the crack, on his left thigh. Instant blood red teardrop. Dancing and screaming.

   "One more."

   I made the noises around him, terrifying him, then landed a better one on his right thigh. Epic noise and tears.

   I unlocked his hands, then re-did them and double locked it again.

   "Upstairs. Go."

   He trotted up the stairs, and I shut the lights off as I came up. He was on the couch, crying. I stood there, holding it coiled up.

   "Knock the whiny shit off. Now. When I say that I'll give you something to scream for? As you can see, I really mean it this time. Better get that annoying whiny shit under control. Quick. Not telling you a third time…"

   I stood over him crying on the couch. Sobbing. Trying to stop, and stopping just made it come up and out in bursts. I smiled, I ran the coiled up bullwhip over him lightly.

   "Think telling me to get drunk was a good idea now? Hmm? I warned you, I knew what demonstration was coming. I knew you'd dare me. You had to get me loosened up with some more brandy. Congratulations. Want some more? Just ask."

   I got begging and pleading.

   "Stand up and turn around. Shut the fuck up! I wanna show you a picture of the marks, that's all…"

   I showed him a picture of his back. It got screen-cast on the TV, and I pointed smiling. It was something worthy of an internet kinky image site.

   "Now. Ready for the naughty movie. Watch the TV, slut."

   I had the phone on. I recorded it. He got to see it all, including his entire scenario. I replayed it several times for his benefit.

   "Thank me. Make it sincere. I'll tell you, when you can stop. Go on…"

   I enjoyed it, I really did. I ran the coiled up bullwhip over him, smiling as he cringed at its caress. I indicated the ground and he continued thanking me, grabbing my ankles. I put my feet together, and enjoyed a good several minutes of a kissing and thanking and licking show. Poetry. Almost no woman can command this temporary level of fear, awe and respect in her lover. Very, very few. If I were to ever threaten him with it seriously? I would get very, very real fear. He has to imagine what harder, more serious shots could do. He doesn't suspect, he knows, that it would be epic.

   "So. When you see another fantasy video. Two dressed up whores, taking turns bull-whipping some pervert for an hour? Its pure theatrical bullshit. They're using… dirty book store fake whips. Not that I can't lay a very serious hurting on you with one of those, because as you see I know how to use it professionally. But, the 200 lash videos, two dressed up whores, uh uh. Pure movie magic, basically. You've seen what the real thing does, and that's as light as its even possible to use it."

   More kissing and licking and thanking me.

   "Still love me? How did that go… worship, right? Hmm."

   More kisses.

   "Tell me all about it. How much you love me. Worship me. And this should serve as one of those gentle reminders. If I were to ever, and I mean ever… you cheat, and I find out? I will get you helpless, for naughty fun time. Somewhere I can swing this thing around. Maybe… in the middle of nowhere, or… a sub basement maybe? Oh yeah. Nice, tall ceiling. Empty cement room. Oh… just imagine it. When I said I would hurt you. Bad. Then kick you to the curb? I'll leave you in a pile. A collapsed heap? Of blood, tears, and snot. You'll be in some emergency room, getting stitched up. They'll be wondering what the hell even happened to you."

   Kisses. Lots of those little kisses.

   "Any more questions? Vaquera will now answer fan questions. Before I tell you what I want, and you'll do it. Whatever it is. Because if you don't? You know what will happen to you. When I say I can whip the skin right off of your naked ass? Its not just a phrase. Are we clear on that?"

   "Yes. Crystal."

   "Mm. Questions?"

   "Um… what did the girl that ran her yap say?"

   "Oh. I guess she fancied my cowboy I hooked up with. She was in the group of assholes, with the gorilla. He, was about the farm equivalent of… that football asshole, the one you had the issue with before we met? The one you told him he better ask Bobby over there, if he should even be fucking with you. That one? This is basically the same guy."

   "Bubbly."

   "What?"

   "It wasn't Bobby. You just remember it sounded like Bobby. His nickname? Was Bubbly. He liked wine instead of beer or whiskey. The old song, tiny bubbles in my wine? His nickname was Bubbly."

   "Oh. Thank you. Now, was that interrupting me? Correcting me, or talking over me… which one what that again? I wanna know, so that when I take you down in the sub basement, and really give you this thing, I know exactly what it was for. I told you to watch your mouth. You didn't. Any last words? Speak now. You won't be speaking anymore. Soon. How many times have I warned you about your sass? Hmm?"

   He was an instant ankle grabbing, kissing and begging mess.

   "Hey. You down there. You? Look up at me. Right now. Eyes up here."

   He looked up.

   "I was kidding."

   "Oh."

   "Yeah. So. That girl I guess was jealous and liked my farmhand, the one that wanted the belt and liked it. Maybe he bragged. Who knows. She says, something along the lines of… that's it. I want these whip sluts out of here. Now. Like… she's anything in charge of shit. She ain't. She's some twat showing a goat or some shit, she's literally… nothing. Me and the girls? We're actually staff for the duration. My cowboy? He's staff for the animal care. But the gorilla? He's in her group. Mongo wants to impress girly. Well, I sent his ass to the hospital. So, the phrase she used was… I want all these little whip sluts out of here now."

   "That was naughty what you just did."

   I smiled.

   "Aw. You asked to be scared of me. You wanted to get another scary ride. Mommy? Delivered two scary rides tonight. And guess what? Third time is the charm, am I right? Third scary ride hasn't happened yet."

   "Over the knee. Chair. Basement."

   "Nope. Something else. Your big surprise."

   "Will you tell me now?"

   "No way. But, you know how you like wordplay? After it, I'll remind you of several things I said, and how I said them… then it will all come together. But? Only in hindsight. Mommy? Is more fun than an amusement park tonight. This will be your third scary ride tonight. Then we still have the chair left. After that? I'll fuck the ever loving shit out of you. You even had my bum like you wanted. Honestly, did I plan you a great birthday party and special treats, or what."

   Kisses again.

   "Aw. Thank you. Now. Getting a little late, I wanna squeeze this all in. That? Is yet another one of those cute puns and word plays, which you will not put together until after. Any more questions?"

   "I guess not."

   "Okay. Go up. Get the box. We're going to open it, soon. No peeking. And if you do?"

   I held the bullwhip up, smiling, and ran it still coiled over him, loving the jumping every time it touched him gently.

   "Go on. Get the box, and… oh. Get the other two bandannas. Not the soapy one. Where is it? Don't mix them up. I'm being nice, I don't want you gagging on soap for this."

   "That one? Is in the washer and, I'll put the clothes in the dryer too, while I go past."

   "Hey. Good boy. You're… helpful… compliant now… much better. Now, go to the dryer and grab those other two bandannas, and bring the box down. Oh! Baby oil too. No peeking. Surprise. Go. Shoo."

   He was back with the box and baby oil and two bandannas on top.

   "All right. Would… you like me to fuck you now? Ask me nice."

   He begged for it.

   "Ask me to fuck you… hard."

   He did.

   "Okay."

   I smiled.

   "Just like that?"

   "Yep. Just like that. You? Asked me to fuck you. Nice and hard. I'm going to do just that. How would that be? Huh?"

   "Awesome."

   "Well? There you go. I'm fucking you, by the way, in the kitchen. Hope you don't mind. We always do it in the bedroom, something different. Kitchen, all right?"

   "Sure."

   "All right, birthday boy. Get in there. Go on. Shoo. I'll be in, in a minute."

   He went in the kitchen to wait. I had been smiling the whole time. I'm so naughty. About to get a whole lot naughtier. I get too much mileage about the whole, you didn't listen to me carefully enough ploy. I said swat, why did you say swats. He likes wordplay. Tricks.

   I came into the kitchen, and put the box down, still sealed. Still had the coiled up bullwhip as well. I ran it over him lightly, smiling.

   "Now then. Beg some. Beg me, to fuck you really hard. I wanna hear it. If you don't? well… I think we both know, that I can make you beg. With just, one, crack. Then? You'll beg, and say… and do? Anything. I mean, we both know this now. So… beg me. Beg me, to fuck you really hard. Then? I will. Go."

   I got the ankles held, the little kisses and licks. Begging, just like I asked him to. When I was done, I got him up.

   "All right. Its a big surprise. I'm gonna blindfold you…"

   Which I did.

   "Now… gagged. Nothing major. Just the one bandanna, no tying something in. Pretty basic."

   "All right. Spread those legs. Bend over. Stay still… what? Oh don't worry. I promise. No hand smacks. No whips. No switch, nothing like that. Just, me fucking you. Nice and hard. Promise."

   I had left the table ready. I got the double cuffs on each ankle. The hand ones were waiting, right in his stretched out, helpless position. I double clicked both wrists. Done. I hummed, and went over each one. Adjusted one or two in a click. Nothing major. Then I went over all 8, and did the locks.

   "I? Am opening the surprise box now. Very soon? Your hard fucking will start. Now that you're completely helpless, and at my mercy? Blindfolded, gagged. Legs stretched out, hands stretched out, all bent over tight. Can't move a muscle, can't see what's coming, can't even scream for help. Time for scary ride, number three."

   I opened up the box, and he heard me rifling the contents. I had purchased, not just a toy to use on him. A vibrator. A soft jelly rubber one. Silicone maybe? With a built in vibrator. I stepped into the built in leather harness. It was a blemish purchase too. Two different colors to the jelly, said machine was changing over, and these mixed blemishes are… next to nothing, but high quality, like the other purchases. I squirted some baby oil over the thing, and worked it all up slick.

   "Ready? Let me hear some of that cute gag talk I like. No? Oh well. I'll get plenty. Right… about… now…"

   I butted the head of it up against his ass. I giggled.

   "Did you wonder at all, how you were gonna get fucked hard, in this position? Not very imaginative of you, I gotta tell you. Now, let's get going. Remember when I had you fuck me hard? Yeah… and I told you, I would get you back? You must have thought I was talking about over my knee, huh? Nope. That comes later, though. But right now… mommy, is going to fuck you. Hard, too, just like I promised. Just like you begged for. Now… just… relax…"

   It was bigger than his own interest meter. A hair longer, a hair wider. I couldn't go with a smaller one, and it was impossible to match size exactly, so, I had to err on slightly bigger. I gave gentle pressure, and the head started to ease in. All baby oiled up, it was too easy. I had to be careful. I could just ram it home, all at once, but… he was so sweet the first time, and had to be egged on to get more into it. I had to all but make him finally ride me hard. So, I would try not to be uncouth about it. Fair is fair. But, no matter how slow, no matter how gentle. It ends up all in, just like his. It ends, with full strokes. Guaranteed.

   "Hey, I'll just use the tip. Ha, like you'd believe that one, huh."

   I started inching it in, a partial millimeter at a time, but steady. The noise out of him started. I smacked his ass with my hand.

   "Sit still, slut. You want this rammed in? Dare me."

   "Aw. I'll go slow. At first. I will tell you though, might take a while, but… this ends? With it all the way in and out. Full strokes. Then? They will get faster. When I'm done, by the way, you will be getting banged. I, am simply gonna be grabbing these hips, and bouncing my tummy off your ass. Believe it. Hard. I? Am gonna use you, like a slut."

   I went slow, and finally had the head in enough to start little baby wiggles in and out.

   "Oh. There we go. Getting started. You starting to feel it? Wait till we get going. Now. I can tell you this from experience, so listen up. Don't fight it. I tried that. If you clench up? It just hurts way more. The only way, is… just open up, relax, and let it happen. Because, its gonna happen anyways. Its a matter of how hard you wanna scream and cry. You want it to really, really hurt? Fight it. I dare you. You want it to be… uncomfortable? Or really hurt. Just relax."

   I got the baby strokes a quarter inch longer. Every so many little baby strokes, I added a millimeter more. I laughed, and teased him.

   "Have you ever done this before? No… ooh. First time. Well. We used a lot of lube, we're going slow. For now, anyways. Just… relax and don't fight it. Just let it happen, it happens anyways. There's no point in struggling. I'm raping you right now. So… important fact. Its not your fault. The bad girl, is making you do it. It is not your fault. That should help. Well, tomorrow it will help. Not right now it won't… little more…"

   He was making all kinds of noise now, trying to squirm around. I tickled him some. The reaction was epic. The twitching actually had him back into it more, driving it a little more in himself. So, I tickled him more.

   "You want this to turn into a tickle-fuck? No? Okay… just some here and there, though. I love the screaming it makes. More tickles…"

   I listened to the screaming and I giggled and made fun of his noises, and I got a little more. The baby strokes were small ones now. I slowed up and deepened one a half inch extra. I heard the moan and sigh, the hiss of air he drew in.

   "Yeah… been there, done that, got the T shirt. And guess what? We're making another naughty home movie, right now. Ha…"

   Another quarter inch, when I stalled at the end and drove it slowly in a little more, before resuming the stroking.

   "I told you… I was going to humiliate you, didn't I? You would be so embarrassed… ashamed… wanna tell anyone what the bad girl did to you? Probably not. Rape victims, by and large, are too embarrassed to tell. So… you'll keep mommy's secret. I mean, what can you even do. Go to the cops? I can see it. Tell them all the naughty things, the bad girl did to you, right? They'll laugh and figure you're bragging, how hot of a date you had. Hmm. Just let it happen, my best advice… take it, I'm telling you. Quit fighting it."

   The tears started. The squealing.

   "What a baby. I wasn't that bad my first time, with you. Go on, cry for me… it will make it so hot… please."

   "A little more? Okay…"

   I gave him more. I laughed. I ran my hands all over him. A few tickles. About half way now, and the next little push, got the screams coming. Sobbing, too.

   "Remember, we were talking about something, I said… I would try to squeeze it in? Ha. Now you get all the little jokes I made all night. Is this a scary ride, or what. Ooh, yeah… let's get some more in there. Oh yeah, cry more, I like it. Scream for mommy, that's how I know you like it. Cry, just let yourself. Go on… yeah… like that…"

   I reached around and intended to wipe one finger across the underside of the tip of his hard "interest meter". Some slick wetness, and make a squirm by teasing the tip like that. I found an interest meter that wasn't registering full interest.

   Shit. Normally, the rougher I am with him, the harder and wetter he is, on the whole. Instead of stopping, and creating some sort of scene or issue, I decided to try to change tack. I scratched his back with my fingernails. Not the red gouges some women were known for, actual hard back scratching, the kind a person likes. I slowed down and pulled out a little. I had originally intended to make the rape jokes, then tease him how it wasn't really rape, when his cock got hard and wet, and I made him come easily by pulling him off near the end.

    I needed a different plan now, and I didn't want to abruptly change up course and make it so obvious. Until just now, the joke in my head was that I could set him on fire, and he would probably get a hard on. I scratched his back instead of tickling him, to buy time. I slowed down my anal attack, and backed out. If I was in X millimeters deep at present maximum thrust, I only went in X minus 5 millimeters with each slower thrust.

   I had been about half the rubber dick in, and I now reduced that to a little less. Anytime his real one had gone deeper, it had been uncomfortable when I relaxed and painful when I tried to clench and fight. But, when he was just stroking to the same depth that had become the "normal", it settled down. Once he had depth, it was fine to use it. Getting any more was the hard part.

   At the end, once it was over? Most of the painful subsided into uncomfortable, and finally at the very end… to a sort of a sense of "fullness" that is hard to describe to someone who hadn't had either a real or rubber cock up their ass, I would suppose.

   Putting my attack into a holding pattern, calmed him down some. Scratching his back instead of taunting him and tickling him, added to it. I changed strategy. I went from scratching his back, to laying down on him. Putting as much of our skin into contact as I easily could achieve. I'm almost as tall as he is, so my lips were near his ear. I cooed and did what us girls sometimes referred to as a "sugar daddy" voice and mannerisms. They talked in a slow, husky whisper. How it would be all right, how it would be okay, and shushed you gently. It was both slightly creepy, and somewhat hot at the same time, to most girls. What would I be, the sugar mommy?

   "Shh. Mommy was going to whip you, to make you do it, but now mommy wants to be nice to you, okay? Yeah… do you want mommy to be nice? I can be nice. I can do it easy. Hmm… I want you to like it. Do you like easy? Hmm…"

   He calmed down a slight bit, but it was noticeably so. He was still having the occasional sob wrack through him, the whining still present. But, it lowered and it slowed.

   "Shh. You're only taking half of it right now, its okay. Will you promise to try to relax, if mommy stays at half way, hmm? I'll give you time… there, that's better isn't it? We don't have to rush it, we have all night to get this done."

   I slowly kissed his face, and kissed at his tear streaked cheeks. I smoothed his hair as I did it.

   "Shh. There's no need for all those tears, and all that screaming. See? Its going to be all right, I promise. You just have to trust mommy, okay?"

   He gave a little, nervous jerk of his head. The slightest nod.

   "There. If it stays just like this, is it okay for now? Hmm? Please tell mommy the truth. Mommy won't hurt you for telling the truth right now, mommy promises…"

   He whined, then nodded a quick single time.

   "All right, its going to be okay, mommy promises. We're gonna go real slow, will that be better?"

   He whined and nodded again.

   "Shh. It'll be all right. Mommy didn't mean to hurt you so bad, mommy wants you to get to enjoy this. Mommy liked it, even though she didn't think she would… mommy wants you to like it too, okay?"

   Another nod. I smoothed his hair, that seemed to help.

   "Now… all you have to do, is promise mommy you'll try. Can you promise to try? That's all."

   He nodded.

   "There, that's all mommy needed to hear. If you try, mommy's happy with that. I'm very proud of you and you're doing very well for your first time, okay?"

   I kissed his face slowly, all over while cooing to him softly like this.

   Now that I had things on an even keel, I was stuck at the 50 yard line, but I was still in the game. I was well used to just gagging him, whipping him and threatening him to get what I wanted. One aspect of being dominant sexually, and taking what you want confidently, does place it close to or squarely within the realm of rape. Its a sort of willing rape though, and it makes all the difference.

   This didn't freak me out, this happening. I know what I am, and sexually dominant is definitely me. Not like I don't like the weekly bent over and fucked till I walk funny deal, though. And that's enjoying submissiveness. But, I admit that I kind of order him to do it, and give hints and suggestions how I want it done, and how much. Not sure I would like it as much, if he randomly grabbed me once a week or so, and threw me down and did the exact same thing.

   He's generally my polar opposite. Although he definitely likes a few sweet things here and there. The wet sloppy blowjobs, are a good example. Most people don't want a steady diet of yin, they want a hint of yang as well. You can't just say "oh, that's not dominant, so, you're not a dominant." Likewise, my very sexually submissive boyfriend… is not guaranteed to enjoy my violent rape and sexual assault tactics, 24 hours out of every single day.

   "Hmm. Want mommy to be gentler with this?"

   He gag talked something quiet, quick and unintelligible.

   "Would it make it better, if you could talk to mommy?"

   He nodded.

   "Hmm. Do you want mommy to take this thing out? Would that make you more comfortable trying?"

   That tiny little nod.

   "Shh. Maybe. You have to promise, to be extra good though."

   Another nod.

   "Mommy's going to tell you a story. Now, this thing? We're gonna just… park it here… okay?"

   He nodded again, and I slowed and stopped. But I stopped in him, at my half way point. I had the box near enough, and he heard me rummaging. This was no cheap dirty book store piece of junk. My jelly rubber strap on was going to be a high end piece of merchandise, until the machinery was changing over from one color to another. I had read about it before buying it, like studying the handcuffs. There was a matching thick rubber doughnut shaped piece of soft jelly rubber. You could slide a little clamp onto the soft shaft first, then the doughnut, and bring the doughnut up. The clamp would keep it there.

   It was for setting depth of how far you wanted to plow your little slut. I grabbed what was yet left to give him, and looked down to gauge with my hand. I don't have small hands for a girl or any other standard I've ever heard of in my presence. He still had a little bit more than one hand left to go.

   I patted him on the shoulder.

   "All right. We'll pick this right up where we left off. Don't go anywhere…"

   Chained and tied to the table all spread out helpless for me, he wasn't going anywhere, it was obvious. But with my soft way I was using, he nodded. I slowly pulled out, shushing him as I slow motioned my temporary withdrawal. I got the little clamp on, and I grabbed with my hand I had used as a depth gauge, and got the doughnut down to the clamp. The little instructions showed how you could move it without a face down partner realizing. How if the increments were tiny enough, they might not realize until much further down the rabbit hole.

   I scratched his back while I sweet talked him, with my ever so soft, melodic, bedroom mommy voice. Sugar mommy.

   "Shh. It's okay. We're going to do it again, but shh. I want you to see it. Well, this thing stays on…"

   I tapped his bandanna blindfold.

   "But you know what mommy means, right?"

   He nodded.

   "I promise, we're not doing anything you haven't already done. We stopped there, and you were fine, right?"

   Another nod.

   "So, I'm not going any further with you, than you're already comfortable with. Now… when mommy does this, I want you to try, okay? You'll see. You already went half way there. This is just that same half way, okay? So if you show me you're trying, by not screaming and crying, and you show me you can be good… then we'll see about taking this one off, okay?"

   I tapped his bandanna gag.

   "Shh. I'm going to show you right now, how mommy is being nice, and we just go back where we stopped. Where you were okay… now you were fine there, you were all settled down, and I stayed there. Show me how its still okay, show me how good you can be right now, and maybe we can take that off. Shh. It'll be fine, you'll see. Now…"

   I got around and got ready. I positioned myself just about to hit his ass with the head of my new toy. I gently placed the slick tip against his rabbit hole. He jumped.

   "One…"

   I gently slid just the tip in, and stopped. It went right in, there was no problem. He had taken this and more. He was surprised how easily it went right in, and didn't hurt like when I first popped it in.

   "Two…"

   I shushed him and scratched his back, as I slowly and smoothly slid back to where we had left off, and he now felt the big, soft doughnut touch him.

   "Three."

   He was nervous. He had been captured, and surprised with my hot little rape scene I had planned on. I had threatened him, and been rough. I had tickled and teased and taunted him. Threatening him more. Now… I was being nice. He didn't cry or complain for three. The third time is the charm.

   "Now. Here we are. Right back where mommy promised. Told you, once you're there, its okay. Do you trust mommy now? Is this better than before? You like it when mommy's nice to you. Hmm?"

   He nodded.

   "Okay. Now, we're going to see, and we're going to see together. You can feel that, right?"

   I wiggled so he could feel the soft jelly doughnut against his butt.

   "That will make mommy keep her little promise. Mommy can't accidentally go too far, too fast. You feel that, right?"

   Another little nod.

   "All right. Let's see if its okay now. I told you, once you're there, it's not as bad. Mommy's going to move around, just a little bit. And you, you promised mommy you'd try. Now, if this goes okay, and you're really trying, we can take that thing off of your mouth, okay?"

   He nodded.

   "Okay, here were go…"

   I started moving slow, first little baby moves from where we were, then back. After a few seconds, I moved back more, and got a baby stroke back, slow, and back to the safety stop. I shushed him, I scratched his back when I was upright. As I got more movement, I finally got to where they could be called baby strokes finally. I gave a big, soft, gentle shush as I laid down on him and ran my hands down his arms and back up, to cradle his face from behind and planted wet little kisses on his face. Shushing him, whispering encouragement in his ears. I could feel his body under mine, and he wasn't jumping anymore. By the time I was getting full, slow strokes in and out, he had relaxed and started letting it happen.

   I stayed down on him, and could finally actually fuck him some now. Shushing and kissing him and promising him how it was okay now, while I got slow, full strokes. I could go from just the tip barely in, to a slow full stroke up and pause at the doughnut pressing on him, then wiggle around like I was itching to. Roll my hips a little around, just like when I rode tops. I was riding him like I wanted, and finally showed him.

   "Ooh…"

   I had ever so gently pulled out at the end of an extra slow stroke back out, then paused still barely touching.

   "Shh…"

   I gave a long, gentle shush in his ear, as I came back in and slowly and smoothly came back up to the doughnut pressing on him. I continued the generous shushing and the wet little kisses, as I did it more.

   "Oh yeah…"

   I could now give full strokes. From pushing at the end, all the way in. All the way back out to where the tip was out and simply touching the rabbit hole, and smoothly enter and come all way back in, and roll my hips around obscenely there. I was enjoying it, and that's an understatement. I now had a perfectly willing captive, chained and tied all spread out to my kitchen table. I was fucking him captive and helpless. Really and honestly fucking him. I was doing the fucking. He was now settled down, and accepting it. I had been there. I let him hold me down and fuck my ass. And finally, so I would know, dared him to do it harder and quicker finally. Yeah, it hurts and even though you've learned to accept it and relax, its still uncomfortable. Then there's the final aspect of knowing you asked for it, and that you're getting it now.

   You can't say I didn't go first, I did. You can't say I didn't make sure what it would be like, I did. The person reading this can't say that wasn't fair. He can't say this wasn't fair, that I hadn't gone first, that I hadn't asked finally for the rough ride, then taken it like a champ for him. He admitted he liked the first one, he admitted he liked the other times. He admitted he liked hearing me squeal, feeling me squirm under him. Now here me and him are. He's helpless and willing. I'm fucking him now, and now I'm enjoying the same squealing and the squirming.

   We're half way there. I scraped my fingernail on his bandanna tied around in his mouth, knotted behind his head to keep the noise down.

   "That's better. Can we get rid of this thing now? Hmm?"

   He nodded.

   "Do you promise to try now, and we can talk nice? You can cry, and you can whimper and squeal, but I don't want any screaming. I want a willing partner for this. Just like I was a willing partner for you, when I let you do it, to me. Okay? You promise you'll be good? You promise you'll try for mommy?"

   He nodded more. All that hissing and labored breathing of before, when I was raping him rough, was gone now. He was just breathing heavy.

   "All right. But… mommy is trusting you, and you're promising mommy. If you go back on your promise, as nice as I'm trying to be right now? If you start screaming, or worse, telling me no? This thing is going to have to go right back in. I'm going to have to shove something in first. Like a dirty sock, and tie it in real tight. That's if you go back on your promise by screaming. Now, if you tell me no, and try to order me to stop? That's way worse. Instead of a dirty sock, it'll have to be a fresh bar of soap tied in real tight. Then, I'm going to go back to the way it started. Rough. Forcing you. I'll have no choice, but to do it even rougher and harder than this started. And you can scream and cry all you want, with your mouth all helpless. Is that how you want this to finish up?"

   He shook his head no.

   "You're sure? You don't want to dare me…"

   No, no, and no.

   I gently placed the coiled up bullwhip on the table by his head, and gently with my hands on his face, guided him to feel it. Patting his one cheek gently for emphasis. I let him feel it for a little while, before cooing in his ear.

   "If you break a promise to mommy, I'll have no choice but to punish you. Severely. You got all hot and bothered, and begged me to let your ass taste that, didn't you. I told you no, I told you it wasn't nice like mommy's other whips. But you were too horny, and begged to let your ass taste it. So, we had the basement. It's not nice like my other whips, is it?"

   No no no.

   "You even like getting a whip, and crying for me. You beg for it. But… this one is scary, isn't it?"

   Yes.

   "All right. So we have a deal. All you have to do, is try. Like I did for you, when you got to do it to me. All you have to do, is lay there and let it happen. Like I did. You'll even like it that way. I did. Is that how you want this to finish? The nice way."

   Yes yes yes.

   "Okay. The other way, is the hard way. You get dragged down to the basement, in handcuffs. I'll pull you down with rope tied to your handcuffs. I'll tie your little handcuffs over your head, and you'll be helpless. I'll take this scary whip with me, and I'll show you how much more scary it can get. Its your birthday. You'll get 24 of that laying it on you bullwhip stroke. One after the other. You already know, that to keep it going, each one has to get harder and harder, and hurt more and more."

   "Then, you'll get twenty four wrap around strokes with the big, scary whip. You haven't even felt one of those yet, because I had you on the pole. You'll be out where I can get you with those. You'll get 24 of those in a row, too. Trust me, they will hurt. Bad. Real bad. But we won't be done, will we?"

   "You were so hot and horny, you begged for a couple lashes. They were the tiniest ones this scary whip can put on you. You will get 24 of those scary bullwhip lashes on you, and they won't be gentle licks like the first ones. When I'm done? I'll drag you right back up here, you'll go right back on this table, just like you are right now. And I'll finish what I started, except it will be way more rough. And you will have a dirty sock tied in, or maybe even the bar of soap… for the whole, nasty thing."

   I felt him trembling under my warm body pressed down on him. I had my legs pressed to his, and I was on my tiptoes which makes my big thigh muscles stand out, into the backs of his own thighs. I had my new toy half buried in his little rabbit hole, and was rolling my hips around slowly. This motion rubbed my warm skin over his where it contacted him. My erect nipples gently scratched his back, my thigh muscles standing out massaged the backs of his thighs just as gently. My hands were gently on his face. Holding his face to feel the scary, new whip I had given him a gentle taste of. The shudders at my naughty description made me even wetter.

   Oh, I was so wet it wasn't even funny. My thighs were moist. If I could wave a magic wand and instantly switch places, the wet squishing noises from the first stroke to the last, would make that noise we could both hear when I took it wet. I paused with the safety doughnut gently rubbing the lubed slick area that was around his little rabbit hole now. I slowed my hip rolling to very slow, as I shushed him in his ear, wet little slow kisses between shushes as I untied the bandanna gag.

   Right before I removed it, I grabbed both sides and held him, like the reins of a horse I used to ride. One final coo of a warning, before releasing his mouth.

   "We have a deal, and you promised."

   He nodded slowly. I could see it, I could feel it if my eyes were closed.

   "Remember how this started, and just imagine how much worse it will be, when we finally get back to finishing that way. And as you can plainly feel, right there in front of your blushing little face… that's what will happen right before I go back to the rough way. If you ever took one of my polite suggestions before? You should take this one. I'm begging you, do not test me, and make me do it. You know I can, you know I will. Don't you…"

   He nodded more.

   "Okay, we'll try this the nice way. You seem to like nice now that you got a little taste test of what the rough ride would be like. You want the gentle, slow ride then. Right?"

   Yes, yes, yes.

   "You remember your manners, when this comes out. All right… let's see how this goes…"

   And I gave a couple final reins tugs, before ever so slowly running it side to side in his mouth I still held with it. Shushing and planting those wet little kisses he enjoyed. Cooing between shushes. I stopped the gentle gag sliding at one end, and whispered to gently hold it in when I let one hand go. He did. I slowly pulled the wet bandanna out, sliding it out of the corner of his mouth. I lifted the blindfold, too. I gently guided his chin to look at the coiled up bullwhip in front of his eyes, and gently dropped the wet gag bandanna on it. I resumed the fucking. Stroking as much or as little as it pleased me to experiment with it. Pushing and rolling my hips around, when I chose to bury it in for a bit.

   "Mm… isn't there something you should be telling mommy right now, little boy?"

   I tapped my finger on the coil of the scary bullwhip, and fingered the very tip of the thin lash, and tickled his cheek with it. He realized what that meant, and I felt another little shudder go through him. I chuckled softly in his ear.

   He thanked me for taking the gag out, he thanked me for offering to try this nice, he thanked me over and over again, softly like I enjoyed hearing. I finally shushed then told him he was very welcome.

   "Mommy will forgive that one little slip in manners. Mommy will let that one slide. Don't let it happen again…"

   He thanked me over and over for letting it slide, he promised and swore he would be good now.

   "Now we can talk. Is this that bad, really?"

   He admitted it wasn't.

   "Do you see now, that when you just relax? It's not so bad, is it."

   It wasn't.

   "You can't stop it once it starts. I know. I tried. It just makes it hurt that much more. But… when you finally learn to relax and let it happen… its much better, isn't it?"

   "Yes…"

   "Hmm. I know. You told me, many times, that you love my twat. You love putting your cock in there. What do you say my twat is like, when you first go in… tell mommy…"

   "I can't believe what a nice small one you have. When you're such a tall, strong girl. Everyone says… they're wrong. It's tight the first time, every day."

   "Mm. Thank you. My twat opens up to take your cock though, doesn't it?"

   "Yes… and you're welcome…"

   I chuckled in his ear, he had remembered to say welcome, because I said thanks. Scared to not listen.

   "Hmm. And how tight was my little ass, when you finally got in there. I gave you a completely virgin hole, the only one I have to give you. We're not little kids, and I'm so sorry we didn't meet when I was a teenager. I could have given you all virgin holes. But I saved you one. Its yours, when I let you. What's it like? Tell me."

   "Tight."

   "Uh huh. And after you finally get in? What happens…"

   "It… takes it."

   "Yeah. Opens right up like my twat does, and takes your cock. Once I learned to relax, and not fight it, I even asked for a real fuck back there, didn't I?"

   "Yes."

   I flicked the little name tag on his collar. It dangled with my motions. It swung when I flicked it.

   "It says you're my slut. It says you belong to me. It says I own you. I didn't get it for you, as a joke. I put a lot of thought into it. Ever since that third date, out in the middle of nowhere. Where we could both be ourselves, and see. I told you then, our first night together. I pick you. I want you. I need you. Right?"

   "Yes."

   "I did. You accepted. You wanted more, and I gave it to you. You asked for more, and I gave you more. You loved it, didn't you?"

   "Yes, I loved it."

   "You don't leave. You don't run. You existed before I found you, and you would continue to exist without me. I'm the same. I existed before I found you. I would exist after you were gone. But I like it. Do you like it?"

   "Yes."

   "I know, trust me I know. You know I've been reading about our little hobby. I told you."

   "Yes, I know."

   "People that do what we enjoy doing, they have different names for each other, when they're playing. I picked mommy. I'm… the mommy. Who punishes her little boy when he misbehaves and needs corrected. Right?"

   "Yes."

   "I had to figure out what you are. To mommy. If I was mistress, you would be slave. But I'm mommy. You're not a little boy, not a slave, not a little doggy. Others have those names for themselves. I figured out what you are to me. You're my groupie. You come and stay with me. When a player has a little groupie following them around, they use the groupie. For sex. For fucking. Like I do. Will you admit you like it?"

   "I do."

   "Hmm. I love hearing you say, I do. And you know why, right?"

   "I do."

   "Mm. There it is again. Mommy doesn't want a string of groupies, I'm not like that. I want my own permanent groupie. That, is you."

   I flicked the little tag and sent it swinging again, chuckling softly in his ear.

   "You think I don't hear the football guys talking, at the mixers we have, the little parties where the football team, and the soccer team have a mixer? I do. I'm an athlete on scholarship too. Just like them. So they don't say it to my face. But I hear. I sit near them, and I hear their drunk little stage whispers they have the conversation in. I know. Wanna know what I hear?"

   "Yes."

   "Groupies are fun. They follow you around, they wear your number. They come over, all eager. You fuck them. Any, way, you, want. You use them, and they like being used. You can ask them to do anything, and they'll do anything for you. Eagerly. They thank you for the using, and they beg you to keep on using them. And its fun. For both the player, and the groupie, too. Very natural, isn't it? Everyone and their uncle knows what sports stars get. Its no secret. You know what's going on in the boy's rooms, a couple rows of townhouses over, right this second, don't you?"

   "Yes."

   "Of course. Everyone knows. The groupies all but line right up, to wait their turn. If a player likes one, they put their number on them. The groupie is all proud to walk around, showing it off. After the first time, if a groupie gets a number to wear, and they wear it… no other player better touch their groupie. Again, everyone knows this. You see the girls running around campus, proudly showing off their boyfriend's number. Even the girls, have boyfriends that wear their number. Now that's us. You? Are my little groupie. You? Wear my number. I wouldn't put my number on you, unless I was proud of what I have, and like showing it off to the whole campus. You, seem to have no problem whatsoever, wearing my number. You like being owned by me, right? Tell the truth. No threat of any kind of punishment, whatsoever. Just admit if you like me owning you."

   "I do."

   "See? Nothing that's not healthy, and very natural going on. If a boy or a girl has the same numbered groupie long enough, that becomes their boyfriend or girlfriend, right?"

   "Yes."

   "I moved you in. I put my number on you. We both like this, right? I know I do. How about you. Do you like it?"

   "I do."

   "Mm. I love to hear it, I can't get enough. Now? We're doing what comes natural. The player realizes they can do what they want with their groupie. One night, they bend the groupie over, and they force this on them. Just what we're doing here, right now. Its going on in the other townhouses, all through the village. I know it. You know it. Its normal. Its natural. Do you admit that what we're doing right now, is normal and natural?"

   "I do."

   "Hmm. I Love it. When the groupie is done being used, they never run away. They keep coming back. The player realizes, they can do it anytime they feel like it. Its their groupie. Now the only difference between us, and them? I'm a girl. That's it. No other difference exists. A boy can hold his girl groupie down for this, the first time. I'm a girl. I can't. So? I tie you up for it. Like now. Again, I've heard this, listening in on conversations. I know. I've also overheard, the player telling how after a couple times, it becomes normal. No more holding down, they let you do it. Whenever they want to. And one time? The player was bragging how he quit doing it. What we're doing now. And you know what? The groupie came and asked for it."

   I flicked the name tag on his collar again.

   "Just like you, coming back and asking to get your ass smacked again. If I don't do it for a little while, you ask. Don't you?"

   "I do."

   "Love it, never gets old hearing it. Now I own you, and I own all of you. Mine to do with as I please. The more I do to you, the more you come back and ask for more. You love it. Today, when I had my eyes closed in the shower? I was a little sore from working out, and I was enjoying the hot water all over me. I felt your hand on my thigh, and I peeked down. You were smiling up at me, sitting there, asking to be peed on. I smiled, I gave you the little squirt of pee you were asking for. If I don't do something to you after I've done it, you miss it and you come and ask for it. Everything. Right?"

   "Yes."

   "And I love it. I appreciate it, too. I don't want another groupie after you, another slut. I just want you. Period. I own every part of your body, it all belongs to me. My personal property. I've used about every other part of your body, any way I wanted, and its been fine. You come back eager for more. What we're doing right now, this will be no different. You'll see. This is the last body part on you, that I haven't enjoyed yet. Tonight? I finally am. Now then… look where we are now. I'm actually fucking you, and you're relaxed, and you're taking it just fine right now. Do you admit that? Tell the truth, no threats."

   He looked around. He realized this was going on for a while now. He had relaxed under it, and it was okay.

   "Wow. I admit it."

   "See? It can be okay. I know, I went first. You relax, you let it happen… it can be fine. Do you admit, that you can even get to like it?"

   "I do."

   "There it is again, I love hearing that. Now. Let me check how interested you are, in what's going on right now…"

   I reached around, and checked interest level. I had full interest.

   "There… see? There we go. Got you on board with the program now…"

   I rubbed my palm around the lube at the entrance of the rabbit hole, and gave a couple of slow tugs with my now slick hand, and felt the reaction. I was fucking him all through this talk and rolling my hips at the end, and I rolled now, tugging. I felt the big breathing start, I heard the soft little moan I always hear when I touch him like that. I quit for fear of finishing him off. I needed him horny for this.

   "That thing never lies. It can't lie. You're enjoying yourself. Just admit it to me. But I already know that now. I want to hear you admit it to yourself. Out loud. Admit you like it. And keep admitting it, until I tell you to stop. Go on. No need to be shy with me, little boy."

   He started admitting he liked it, how it was all right now, he was sorry for fighting me. He kept admitting it, until I told him to stop.

   "Yeah. We're almost there now, and it's going to be okay. You? Are making your mommy very happy right now. You, are getting your mommy extremely wet. I knew I was going to get hot and bothered, but not like this. When you finally get to fuck me, you're going to hear wet twat noises like you never dreamed of, I promise you that. I'm fucking soaked."

   He recognized a compliment, and he fell all over himself, thanking me. I didn't need to remind him in any way. I had him trained, and that made me even wetter.

   "Thank me, for being nice to you. Keep thanking me. I'll tell you when I've been thanked enough."

   I went back to fucking him, and enjoying it. When I told him that was enough, I gave a few slow pulls on the interest meter. I couldn't help chuckling in his ear, hearing the groans and whines it brought.

   "You can't come yet, you know that, right?"

   He did.

   "You know why, right?"

   He did. He told me how he knew he had to be all hot and bothered, to try to enjoy this.

   "Hmm. Its embarrassing, to be bent over, all tied up, helpless. Getting fucked in the ass like this, isn't it?"

   "Yes."

   "I know. You should see your face right now. You're blushing so bad right now. I can't believe it. I love it when I make you blush, you're so cute when you blush like that. I love making your face red, I like knowing I'm the one that did it… mm."

   I got in his ear while I rolled my hips yet again. I cooed in the sugar mommy tones.

   "I know, you're all embarrassed. Its your first time, after all. Mommy is taking your tight little virgin ass, and won't take no for an answer. You're being raped right now, you realize that, right? A real, actual rape. You have no choice, and you know its happening, that there's nothing you can do about it. Except relax and take even more. There's no other way out. I don't allow it. If you even tried right now, to tell me no? I'll take you down in the basement, and give you that long, scary bullwhip. And I mean really use it on you this time, if I have to. And you admit you like me raping your ass and it turns you on, huh? Aw… you must feel so ashamed right now, and definitely humiliated. Knowing that your cock gets so hard and wet, with mommy raping your tight little virgin ass, huh?"

   "Yes."

   "Well? Thank me for doing it. For having to go through all the effort, to make you admit you like it. Tell me how much you like it, how much you actually love it now. Don't just thank me, no way. I want you to beg me. Beg me not to quit. Plead with me, to not stop giving it to you like this. Beg me to give it to you faster. And harder. Don't be ashamed to beg for it, little boy. Its all right. This is just another one of our dirty little secrets. Don't you dare stop, until you're told to. Now beg!"

   He did. I chuckled and laughed in his ear, and gave it to him faster and harder. I bounced that soft safety doughnut off his ass. The first few bounces let the jelly cock up in his tight little virgin ass, hit the next spot up that was previously untouched. Still virginal. Those first couple harder thrusts brought little squeals out of him. When I rolled my hips bottomed out like that, faster now that I was into it, a few more squeals came out again. I loved it. I never did tell him to stop begging for more, so he kept doing it. I let him go for a while before stopping his little begging and pleading party I was getting so much out of.

   When I stopped and slowly retracted all the way out, he said please, not to stop. It sounded genuine, too. Just like when I tease him by stopping my hand when he's getting stroked. I walked around to his face end of the kitchen table, and pulled up a chair, and sat down. I waited a little bit, then poured some of the little glass full of brandy. I took a few tiny sips, and asked if he wanted some. He nodded he did, so I carefully tipped the glass gently to his lips, and gave him some sips. We took turns this way, taking sips. About halfway through, I set the glass down. Regular voice suddenly, like sitting in the tub or bed, talking like a normal couple does.

   "Hi there."

   "Hi."

   "I'll go back to it, in a minute, if you want me to."

   He did.

   "Hmm. When I go back to it, I'm going to give you a little surprise you don't know about. Oh, don't worry. This isn't another trick. This? Is a good one, I promise. Then? We're gonna fuck some more. Are you into it now? Tell me the truth. No threats. Promise."

   "I'm into it. Please…"

   "All right. Do you… want a little more brandy? You know, loosen up and just have fun. Like we had brandy that first night in the woods. And we both loosened up, and I put the riding crop across your ass, a little harder every time. You loosened up, admitted you loved it, and kept asking for more. You want some more?"

   "Yeah. Sure."

   "Okay. Me too. We'll finish this tiny juice glass."

   I traded sips for us, until it was gone. I told him the next break, we could have another. When I touched his little rabbit hole this time, he didn't jump like a scared rabbit.

   "Okay. Two surprises, but again, I promise no tricks…"

   I had a little pack of gloves for cleaning, the kind you have to pull on, and he heard the little snaps it made, getting them on. I got some baby oil on my gloved fingers.

   "Hey. Before we get back to it. I wanted to show you something, that's all."

   I slid one finger into him, and held it there. Nothing.

   "Don't freak out, but, remember me making jokes about a finger in the ass blowjob? That's one finger. If you ask, I'll show you two."

   He asked. I slid two in. The jelly toy was bigger around than two fingers, so there was no problem.

   "Surprised?"

   "A little."

   "Embarrassed?"

   "Yeah. A little."

   "Willing to try three?"

   "Okay."

   Three slid right in, and finally the edges of finger number one and finger number three, made contact with the walls of his little rabbit hole. Enough to adjust the shape of the hole a wee little bit. There was no forcing needed. I moved them in and out a little.

   "See? Your tight little virgin ass, is no longer a virgin anymore. Now, don't worry. I read all about this, trust me. Your little butt, will go right back to normal, overnight. Just like my twat goes back the next day, just like my ass goes back, every time. You're fine, okay?"

   "Okay…"

   "I just don't want you worried. And believe me, tons of guys are asking for, and getting, finger in the ass blowjobs. Its all over the internet, and all the girls on campus talk about it. I guess the guys don't mention it, for obvious reasons. And another thing. Some girls like to tell, and some girls think its funny to tell after they switch guys. I won't. We have a secret, so you can trust me. Okay?"

   I patted his little butt, and he said all right. I peeled the glove off inside out, and dropped it into the garbage can in the corner, then stood right behind him again. I placed the tip of the jelly toy on his little rabbit hole, and again no jump. He was relaxed.

   "Here's your good surprise, by the way."

   I had a little, what… volume knob on my harness belt. It worked like a volume knob. It clicked then I could go up and down with it, then click it back off when I came all the way down. Like a radio on off volume knob, same concept. There were a line of little buttons off to the side, out of the way of getting bumped accidentally, during "action". I had read about it, and knew that the first one closest to the toy, was regular. Volume knob worked as intended. It was naturally no volume knob, it was the vibrator inside the jelly, to go up and down from low to high.

   I had just the tip touching his rabbit hole making contact and hardly any entry. I showed him low, then slowly all the way up and back down.

   "Well? I promised a nice surprise. What do you think. Will that be okay?"

   He admitted it would be fun. The other buttons would override the on off volume knob. One push, and they would do their individual thing. One went up and down from top to bottom slowly, over and over. So you didn't have to play with the volume knob, instead of keeping both hands on your "partner". Or I suppose, holding down your willing "victim", and could still get the fun effect hands free. The other buttons did other planned things. The second one, went up and down fast, instead of slow like the first. The third, was random. It would pick random "volume" knob settings, and for a random time, hold it and then take a random length of break, and select another, again random, volume. The fourth, was the same random setting, but it would go fast. Shorter random volume settings picked, shorter random lengths of break.

   I could reach over, and feel with my fingertips which one I wanted. The first two were the closest, the next two in their little group, so I could find them easily. I could rest my fingers on all four, and select which one I wanted at the moment, after selecting the volume. The volume knob, if used, limited the top "volume" the button could achieve. If the volume knob was off, or turned up to all the way, were both the same thing. Anywhere in the middle, though… was the top limit. The instructions I had read online carefully, before buying this amazingly cheap and under priced toy. Which was of course a very expensive boutique bedroom toy I would never have been able to afford otherwise. Instructions claimed the last two were most useful. They claimed that the third button was reported to drive the partner "wild", and that the last and fourth button? Drove them into a "completely wild frenzy". Reviews backed these claims up.

   The jelly toy, wasn't just coming "out" to go into the partner's selected hole. It had an inner toy that I could put on, that would let me feel the vibrator as well. I put that on out of the box. That part, had a smaller curved part that came up and rested on my clit. It was claimed, and again backed up by reviews, that my own reaction would be "a unique experience". I never previously in my 20 years on this earth, ever felt a need to use a vibrating toy like other girls giggled about. My finger and my imagination were always more then enough in bed alone, to provide me with my self substituted surrogate for a warm cock sleeping in bed with me. I was curious myself.

   When I hit the first button and turned the volume knob up, I felt it. Oh Jesus, this was low, and I could still feel a reaction. I slid into him, and slowly buried up to the safety doughnut, and rolled my hips. He moaned, and now I did too. Oh Christ. I knew I was going to come, and before he did. It was going to happen more than once, too. Button one would slowly go up and back down, repeating forever. I slowly raised the volume knob as I fucked him. I scratched his back gently like before, and roamed my hands around him. I eventually stopped before I had my orgasm. When I pushed, I felt it more. When I rolled my hips around like I was doing at bottoming out time, I felt it move a little around and over my clit. Oh lord.

   I went and sat back down in front of him again. I asked if that was fun, and he agreed it was. Fuck it. Another tiny glass of the apricot brandy. I guess this thing is giant for a shot glass, but you would think it was too small to be a disposable water cup, as comes out of a dispenser people have. Still, I left it there for a little later.

   "Hello again."

   "Hi."

   "Another little break, before we go back to me fucking you more, all right?"

   "Whatever you want…"

   "Hmm. Now. You admit you like it, that you're relaxed and its okay. You can feel that thing slapping you that keeps me honest on how much I'm giving you, I'm sure."

   "I feel it. Thank you for not… you know."

   "You're welcome. I'm trying to lure you into this so I can do it again, not use it for some kind of punishment."

   I fingered the tip of the bull-whip's lash end over his face.

   "If I want to punish you, I have so many better ways of doing that, am I right?"

   "Yes…"

   A very meek little yes. Surely the thought of a hard bull-whipping was a very real and very scary prospect now. Seeing the marks I left on his thighs, where he got the lightest lash snaps even possible, were a testament to what it could do. I'm sure the threatened prospect of me using it on him in any kind of anger, was a truly terrifying prospect that he would not look forward to, at all. Real fear, real consequences.

   I just know a real little boy misbehaving back in 1910, that got taken down to the barn for his first real "talking to" with the switch, the kind with an actually angry mommy that was pissed giving it to him with abandon… would know to listen afterwards. Then a sharp word from mommy's lips when he was starting to backslide, or come up with new tricks… would make him freeze, pucker up, and beg for it not to have to happen. Promise anything not to get that again. Screeching down in the barn for an extended "talk", terrifying the other children hearing it in their bedrooms, praying they weren't next. Neighbor's children told to listen close, that could be them if they didn't listen.

   No, if I felt like it, I could get just that reaction. With just one even halfhearted and abbreviated "talking to", down in the sub basement now. With its tall cement box structure, and generally open rectangle plan, I would have the room to whirl my serious bullwhip around. The ability to develop the speed I needed to make the really serious cracks, that would sting the ears like a gunshot. All that open space and height, would allow me to whirl around for laying on. Backing up or moving, for wraparounds. Which would allow me to select where the wraparound lash struck. The butt, the side of one or the other hip, the tummy. I could choose to wrap to the back of the thighs, the side, or the front. How many wraps helped control the power, along with speed. I could come in, and start the first wraparound. Back up slightly each time, moving the lash around his body slowly, increasing the mark and power. The less than one full wrap was the worst. Anything over the single, perfect full wrap was less. Double wraps and beyond, were the most sedate.

   And the lash technique itself, the bull-whip's signature performed action. I could go overhand, underhand, forehand or backhand with it. Or any spot around the clock as I felt like. Which would also rotate the red teardrop marks left. I could even create a sort of "flower" as I moved around the clock and kept hitting the same area. The teardrops going around the aiming point. Paint a sort of a toddler's finger painted version of a flower on one ass cheek, the outline of the petals being deep red teardrop shaped marks. Take him down, and sit with crossed arms and crossed legs, clearly annoyed, while he groveled at my feet for forgiveness as long as I wanted.

   Then string him back up, and paint another bloody flower on the other ass cheek, to make sure I made my point. Coil back up, walk around him. Putting the coiled bullwhip under his chin to see my results. Finally let him down at last, and see how much more frantic the pleading and groveling at my feet kneeling there the next time became. Seeing what it was like, to be worshiped out of fear.

   Just one, tiny short session, with a few good marks only? I would then be able to whisper in his ears when we were out, that it wasn't cute or funny anymore, I was actually getting mad. And that if it didn't stop immediately? He risked a trip to the sub basement when I got him home, for a slightly longer talking to with the bullwhip. I knew I would get instant compliance, and hastily whispered apologies and promises into my ear, I was quite sure of it.

   "But there's no need for that anymore, I don't think. Now you like it, you're into it, and you're asking for it. Right?"

   "Please…"

   "I will. But here's all I want."

   "Anything."

   "Hmm. I like that. I want to… very slowly, mind you. A credit card thickness each time, that's all… move the thing you feel stopping it. It to go in just a tiny bit more, every adjustment. We'll slowly get to where I want. Is that all right? Do I have your permission, to try? No threats. I want a willing partner for this. Like I was willing for you, when it was my turn first. Do you agree?"

   "I do, I do, I do…"

   "You really have no idea how much I love hearing those two little words. Now then. Another thing before we can go back to now both of us having fun."

   "Anything you want."

   "Well, its kind of about what you want. You want to get to done, right?"

   "Yes."

   "And, what do you think you have to do, for me to leave my hand on it, long enough for that to happen, hmm? You tell me what you think would get that. Go on."

   "You… you want me to…"

   "Uh huh. Say it… I need to hear it."

   "You… want the whole thing."

   "Yeah. I do. I promise it'll be slow. I mean it, a credit card at a time. Then, the last thing? The thing comes off, and the last little bit, and it will be all over."

   "Yes."

   "Yes what? Tell me."

   "Yes. You can do the… whole thing."

   "And… what do you think I want to do, once we get there? Just like we did, when I put the stopper on. You tell me what I expect, after its all finally in. Say it."

   "You want to… bang me."

   "Uh huh. For a while, too. All the way in, all the way out. Moving my hips around when I'm all the way in, anything I want. You'll be nice and ready by then. Okay?"

   "Yes."

   "Well, beg me for it. Beg me to start, beg me to not take my time getting there. Make me believe you actually want it now. Beg me to finish raping your tight little virgin ass. Don't stop…"

   He did beg. He begged to have me do whatever I wanted, he swore he liked it. He would be good, he promised. He begged to get there, so I got what I wanted, and so he could finally come. He told me how horny he was, and couldn't take it. I let him for some time. I had delicious fun giving him polite suggestions, to be more and more explicit each time. The hot red face was a sublime little ecstasy for me in and of itself. The warm, tingly rush was overpowering.

   "I hope you really mean it, and you're not just telling me what you think I want to hear. Now, I know its your first time. You were always eager to please me before. I expect a few tears, possibly some crying. That's fine. Some moaning, some squealing, all what I expect. Just remember. No screaming. And under no circumstances, do you try to tell me no. We went over what that will get you. I don't want that for you, but if you do… then there's nothing I can do, but give that to you. And there's not even any point to it. It'll just happen anyways. Now… just relax, and it'll be fine, I promise it will be all right, okay?"

   "Yes."

   "All right… you want some more brandy? I do."

   "Okay."

   We shared sips, until it was gone. Then I went back and we got started again. When I put the tip in, I started the vibrator up. I told him, I wanted him to talk to me. To beg for it, the whole time. To tell me how much he liked it, how much he wanted to please me, any way I wanted.

   He did. We began.

   I slowly took the tiniest of breaks, readjusting the clamp. Each little increment, brought about a little jump in him, that I could feel laying on him like a second skin. When a new adjustment went all the way in, and I rolled my hips around… it brought a few fresh little squeals with it. I shushed him and cooed in his ear, telling him how good he was doing, how proud I was of him for taking it so well. Planting those slow, wet kisses all over his face, and neck, and shoulders and back.

   As I got more in, I upped the volume knob. He moaned and begged. I was getting my clit vibrated too, and I was making noises now as well. When I rolled my hips at the end of a stroke, I clung to him and made my own little noises, like I made when he was licking my clit. When I went faster, and held his shoulders or his hips and banged a little, my clit got the vibrating pressure on it a hair more, just enough I felt it. I grabbed the skin of his hips, and squealed. We stopped, both panting here and there, for sips of brandy and continued.

   I talked dirty beyond belief to him, both in his ear and to the kitchen walls bearing witness to all of this. I avoided touching his wet cock, because I was terrified of him coming and this ending. I wanted it to last forever. The first time I came from my well vibrated clit, I clung and clutched to him, and bit his neck and shoulder junction, making the "mm" noise into it. We were both sweating, but I was worse.

   Oh god. I was getting off on just being me, getting what I wanted in bed. Now this. Christ did the reviews undersell having your clit directly vibrated by what they claimed was as far as they knew, the strongest vibrating device possible, in this size device. My first clit orgasm was shortly before the safety padded doughnut was at the end. I got to bang my first orgasm, and go in and out, and roll my hips around something fierce for it. Pulling him into me, riding him like I was a second skin on him.

   Finally, the padded stop came off. I went slow, in the afterglow of my first orgasm. He was still begging me, and making noises. I turned that volume knob all the way up for the first time, and went very slow on that first, exploratory stroke. I knew when I hit that new part of his little rabbit hole, I felt him shudder and I heard him squeal. There were a few tears, that I shushed and kissed. Every time I hit that area, he would twitch and squeal, and started making little whining noises. Tasting a lover's tears? A highly surreal experience.

   I told him to beg me to fuck him harder, and really give it to him. He did. I told him to keep begging for it, and naturally he complied. When I was threatening to come the second time, I knew it would be worse than the first. It always is. I asked him to beg me for the rest of it, I had been being careful with that last inch or more. When I pushed in that extra pressure on my clit was something else, and when I rolled my hips around, it was fantastic. It was like wiggling around under his tongue on my clit.

   He begged me for it, he begged for the rest of it, and I laughed. I picked up the bandanna, and slid it back and forth in his mouth, before grabbing the ends tight and hauling back forcefully. Grabbing his head back so I could hiss in his ear, that he was a slut now. Not just any slut, but a total and complete slut. That this was what sluts got, fucked and fucked hard, and they like it. Did he like it? Make some noise and tell me.

   He made noise, and jerked his head a couple times. I bit his shoulder, pretty hard too, and pulled back on the little wet saliva soaked bandanna reins. I made noises and soaked his shoulder with my own drooling, and hauled back hard. I reached the end of my stroke, and made a slow, steady push into that last bit of tight virgin ass he offered me. Until the push ended, and I started rolling my hips around. He squealed and whined something fierce, and he cried now and started sobbing. But he never once screamed, or ever once tried to tell me no, to stop, nor even gave the tiniest head shake to say no.

   I left little teeth marks on a new chunk of shoulder neck junction, biting harder. Using his skin and muscle tissue as a substitute for my precious corner of the blanket I would eat when getting it hard. After getting, finally, all the way in and rolling around, I slowed down. I finally began what I had wanted. The long, slow, even strokes. From all the way out, to back in and all the way up smoothly, a little hip roll, then back out and to do it all over again. After my second orgasm I drooled and squealed into his neck for, hanging on for dear life to my little slut reins I held? I managed to hit the third button. The random, slow and unhurried, surprised me and surprised him, too.

   I slid the drool soaked reins out of his clamped mouth and laughed. I said the absolutely dirtiest things now, and he loved it. I was soaked with sweat. He had moist skin as well, but I was dripping on him. I slid all around on his skin like wet grease. I'm not just strong and a big girl, I'm flexible, too. I was able to get one leg up and along side him, and managed to get my foot where he could reach it with his tongue now that the bandanna reins were gone. Kisses, I told him. He was already doing it before I said it anyways. I could lay my leg up his back, and let my ankle come to rest on his shoulder. I could point my foot down just enough to get little licks and kisses. I eventually switched, and told him that one was jealous, he better give it what it wanted, too. He did, naturally.

   I finally hit the last button. Which was honestly a bit too much. I actually made more noise now than he did. I laughed and called him a complete slut, a total slut. That he was my slut, and belonged to no one else. He begged me to come, and I laughed.

   "No fucking way, slut. Mommy first. Mommy comes first, you understand, you little slut? Mommy… comes… first…"

   I laughed and bit his neck, and clamped my hand over his mouth tight. I finally squealed into his neck, and panted, and held on with my free hand tight. I told him he had to beg to come, and don't dare stop, or he would pay for it with his ass. I absolutely banged him now, as fast and as hard as I could. He cried, he squealed, but he never told me no or anything remotely similar. I was in my afterglow of my third time's the charm orgasm, and I was having way too much wicked and naughty fun with him. I completely pounded his little ass, now not any kind of tight at all until next morning. I finally grabbed his hips firmer than ever, and pushed in as hard as I could. I wanted that last little squeal at the end, that last little bit of tears and sobbing. He begged for it, so bad I almost felt sorry for him.

   I reached around and grabbed him. Dripping so bad I didn't need any lube. I started and stopped, making him beg something fierce, for the longest time possible. He twitched and tried to get little pumps, but stretched out like he was helpless for me, it was the barest minimum. Every couple strokes, I had to clamp his mouth for it, then stop again and laugh. I had him beg and plead and whine. Tears still coming. Finally I shushed him, kissed his tears and told him it was time. If he would promise me he loved me, I would let him come. He promised me, over and over. I moved my hand fast, and he finally squirted off. I laid sweating on him, draped over him like I really don't know what. I licked his tears, and let my breathing slow down. Got myself slowly under control, while he started to as well. I finally pulled ever so slowly out of him, and came out. He sighed and thanked me, over and over again, whispering it. Whispering more to me as well.

   I walked around to the seat in front of him again.

   "Hi there."

   "Hi."

   "Hmm. Now, did you like it? Tell me the truth."

   "I loved it."

   "Mm…"

   I flicked his little tag again and sent it swinging. I did it idly, again and again. Smiling at him.

   "You're my slut, right?"

   He was.

   "Are you ashamed, that you're a slut?"

   "No."

   "Good. Don't ever be ashamed. I am what I am. Someone like me? Needs their own slut. And you? A slut needs someone like me. To use them, like they really want, like they need. Don't you just crave me using you, however I want?"

   "I do."

   "Mm. Love that."

   We shared some sips of brandy.

   "Now then. I meant what I said before. It's… not just some naughty story. Players? Are banging their little sluts. Some of them? Just like I banged you right now. You know its going on. I meant every, single, word of it. All of it. The first time, you definitely have to make the slut take it like that. Maybe a couple more times, but… there's no more forcing them after that. The slut? Takes it when the player wants it again. Do you understand that? How normal it is."

   "I do."

   "Mm. So. You admit, that I just made my own little slut, into a complete and total slut, right? I just raped your formerly tight virgin ass, and you liked it before I was done. You begged for the rest of it. I banged your ass as hard as I could, with you begging for more. It made you hard, it made you wet. You obviously loved every minute of it."

   "I do. I promise."

   "Mm. You admit you're a complete and total slut now? You don't have to be embarrassed to tell me. I know. I just want you to admit to yourself. Do you admit it?"

   "I do."

   "Hmm. And you… understand, you know, that I'm going to want this again. And that I expect you to start doing it, right?"

   "I do. I promise, I do."

   "A few tears, some crying softly and squealing aside… you're going to start letting me, right?"

   "I will. I promise."

   "I believe you. You've always been eager to please me, to do whatever I want with you, right from the first time. You know you love it."

   "I do, I do, I promise, I really, really do."

   "Hmm. Now. The next time? I think, we'll try just handcuffs. Think you'll be okay with that? You can move around some, and I can still hold you down, trust me that's fun for me. But you shouldn't need to be completely helpless, like this first time. Right?"

   "I promise. Whatever you want from me…"

   "I know. Now. The third time I give it to you, remember. I asked for it harder. I put my ass up for you, and offered myself to you, freely. You took it, and you loved it, remember?"

   "Yes. I loved it."

   "Mm hmm. Now then. The third time, I'm going to expect that from you. I'll expect you to not need to be forced. I'm going to want you to stick your little ass up, and beg me for it. Do you understand that?"

   "I do. I promise, I will. Just tell me you want it, I'll do it. Anything…"

   "Mm. All right. Now, another thing. It's time."

   I took a sip of the apricot brandy, and gave him a sip too. He asked what it was time for.

   "No more games. This isn't… just naughty fun anymore. It is, don't get me wrong, but… what I mean is… I want to know, right now. Its been going on long enough for you to be able to decide. Am I just your kinky girlfriend, you love all this, or… is it more. No threats. Of any kind. You, can just be my boyfriend for some more time, that's fine. Or…"

   "Or what?"

   "Or, you submit to me, silly. You ask me to take you, permanently. You can wait, that's fine. Or, if you think you know, that's fine too. Will you submit to me? Completely. I don't just say I own you, you're actually mine. I would keep you, forever. Do you like staying here with me? Am… I good to you. Do you need time to think about it? That's fine."

   "I want that."

   "You love me? Really love me. Want to stay with me. Really think I'm gorgeous. You honestly look at me, and think you finally landed what you used to drool over, on the TV screen. Tall, strong, muscular girls in the Olympics. Wishing you had one of those for yourself one day. You want that? You can have it. Right now, or you can wait and have it. Your choice. Do you really, honestly love me like that?"

   "I do."

   "Will you completely submit to me? Mostly in bed. Mommy is in charge of naughty time. If I want something else from you, I think I'm reasonable. I don't use you for a slave, do I?"

   "You don't."

   "So. You want this, then. You feel the same way about me, as I feel about you."

   "I do. Please…"

   "Hear mommy out. You have to understand what comes with this. Ask me to tell you."

   "Please… tell me."

   "All right. Nothing new here. Two important rules, same as that first time. Like I told you then, like I'm telling you now. There are two big rules. You know what they are. You tell me what they are."

   "Its a secret. I never tell. And I never cheat on you. Ever."

   "Very good. I will not be pointed at, and be the circus freak. There, that's the amazon that does weird stuff. Never. Not a word. I will never talk to you again. I'm not here for my health, wasting years of my life, to have a good career one day. Where I want to be taken seriously. I will not be pointed at, and laughed at behind my back, like some joke. You'll have all the naughty fun you want, but you'll keep that part of our life together, a complete secret. Promise me."

   "I promise."

   "Swear it."

   "I swear."

   "And the other big rule. Cheating. I told you before, I won't have it. No accidents, I don't believe in them. There will be no make up sex, none of that lame ass shit. I will simply never talk to you again, and that will be that. I refuse to have a guy, that thinks he can fuck around, and expects me to take him back. I will not do it. You need to understand that I'm as serious about that, as I am about keeping out secret life a secret. Do you promise?"

   "I promise."

   "And if you ever do, I told you and I meant it. If you're half as smart as I give you credit for, you'll just leave. I told you what I would do, if I ever find out and you think you got away with it. You'll think its just another naughty fun time, and it will not be fun. I will hurt you. Bad. Then, you will never get talked to, ever again. Do you understand this?"

   "I understand."

   I picked up the coiled bullwhip laying on the table between us.

   "I assume you might know this, but I'll tell you anyways. You'd actually be surprised there's guys that don't realize this. After being in a twat, you can smell it. You can wash it a hundred times, it doesn't come off. You can smell it a day later, if I sniff it. You might not know, that after a time apart, that's why a girl greets a guy with a blowjob. She's being nice, happy to see you again, sure… but she's really getting that sniff, checking. All girls know this, girls talk. If I ever, and I mean ever… pull your pants down and smell that, do you have any idea what I'll do to you? You tell me what you think will happen."

   I toyed with the lash, and ran it over his face, the whole time I was saying this to him.

   "You'll hurt me. Bad."

   "Oh, you have no idea. Remember. I have the only keys to the sub basement. I'm head of household on paper. Can you imagine what a time we could have down there? Underground. Alone. No one can surprise us, no one can hear anything. Just me, you, and my scary little friend here. Does that frighten you?"

   He was nervous.

   "Yes. Its very scary."

   "It better be. If I can rip a metal can apart, imagine what I can do to you with it. When I tell you, that I can whip the skin right off your ass, that is not a phrase, I actually can. I swear, I'll be so mad… I'll beat the ever loving shit out of you. I'll leave you laying in a puddle of tears, blood, and snot. I have the keys to those storage cages you saw down there, too. I'll put you in one, and I'll leave you there. You can scream and cry yourself to sleep, naked. I'm not done."

   "When I come down the next time? I'll do it all over again. Worse. I'll do it as many times as I feel like, then throw you out for good. You'll be scarred for life. All over. You'll look like some kind of, I don't know what. You'll never be able to take your shirt or pants off, the rest of your life… without whatever little tramp you pick up with, asking what the hell happened to you. I've seen the scars on animals, and they're really distinctive. You'll be embarrassed for the rest of your life. Do you think I'm kidding about this? You want to leave me one day, fine. You can go. No locked doors, no chains on you. Well, just for fun, but… you can go anytime you want. But you need to understand how serious I am about cheating. Everyone does it, guys do it all the time, and girls do it more. I don't. I expect you don't, either. Do you understand this?"

   "I do."

   "All right. So, you understand the two important rules. Pretty sure you also know, but I'll just say it. You submit to me. You're my personal property. Your body, belongs to me. If I wake up in the middle of the night, and I want sex, I take it. You never had a problem with that before. You seem to like it. I fuck, when I want to fuck. I fuck, how I want to fuck. Will that continue to be something you like?"

   "Yes. I love it."

   "I figured. If you start refusing me sex when I want it, I'll punish you. Any way I want to. If you ever don't want me any more, you can just go. No harm, no foul. But… couples that stay in loveless relationships? Its fucking retarded. I'll never live like that. No one should, I don't know why they do. So… if you wake up, feeling the handcuffs click on your little wrists, do you have any problems with it?"

   "None whatsoever. I love it."

   "Now, understand me. If you're sick, if you're really tired. Or, you got hurt and you're recovering from an injury? I don't expect anything. That's not what I mean by… refusing me sex. I'm talking about that prolonged, I have a headache, I just don't feel like it, that shit. You've had it done to you, right?"

   "Yeah…"

   "No one likes it. It means there's some other problem. Cheating, usually. Or… one partner is taking advantage of the other, for a prolonged period of time. The girl, is ordering the man around like he's her dog. Or, the guy is going out all the time. We have any problems, of any kind? No matter how big, no matter how small? We go to the other. No harm, no foul. We talk about it. I'm only in charge, in the bedroom. I'm not like that in real life, right?"

   "Not at all."

   "I won't start. If I do start and don't realize it? Being a nag, or jacking you off some way, just bring it up. Tell me. There's no punishment for that. Nothing to ever fear that way. I'd rather you tell me there's a problem, and we can both correct it, before it gets to that point. Either one of us. Okay?"

   "Okay."

   "If you don't spill the beans on our secret naughty fun life, if you don't cheat or try to? You can't get in any trouble, ever. Just… either ignore a girl hitting on you, or if its someone we know especially, you come and tell me. Before you get tempted. Now, admit it if you noticed it… I'm not jealous. I not only don't care if you see a pretty girl when we're out, do I not point one out, and say hey, check that one out. I bet you think she's cute, huh? I do it all the time."

   "You do. Its… you're fun to be around."

   "I try. Life's too short to go around with a pout-y face all day, every day. I think. And here's another thing. Girls pull this routine, where they lose weight to attract a boyfriend. Then, as soon as they're comfortable, they let themselves go to shit. The guy usually doesn't even have a problem with it, but the girl hates herself. I mean, seriously now… she's letting herself go, she's uptight about it, and just because the waitress is cute? Oh, he's in trouble. You wanted her, didn't you? I can just tell. I'm not good enough for you, you're such an asshole. You know that act, you've heard about it, right?"

   "Oh yeah."

   "I won't. I'll go you one better. I'm terrified, of getting out of shape. Big athletic girls like me? We're notorious, for turning into big lumps of shit after we're done with sports. I don't ever intend to have that happen to me. My dad has two sisters, they're not as tall as me, but… big girls, like me. They have pretty faces and hair, and they're nothing but cute fat pigs now. It disgusts me. This shit nowadays, fat acceptance or whatever they call it? Its bullshit. If I ever start going down that road? Please tell me. Same goes for you, too. No one should have to stay nice to look at, and have to spend their life with a tub of lard, that let themselves go. We exercise, even after this is all over. We stay healthy. For us, for each other. Okay?"

   "Sure."

   I walked around him helpless on my table, dragging the coiled bullwhip over him, enjoying watching him become nervous as it touched him.

   "Don't worry, you're not in any trouble. You made me very happy, giving yourself completely to me like that. I know its embarrassing, I know its a little humiliating your first time, but you did it for me. I loved it. Before I let you loose, will you thank me?"

   "Thank you."

   "For what?"

   "Thank you, for fucking me."

   "Hmm. Thank me, for fucking you how? This was special…"

   "Thank you, for fucking me so hard."

   "Oh. And where did I fuck you so hard? Hmm?"

   "Thank you, for fucking me so hard, in my ass."

   "Better. Not bad. But… was it just any ass? Or, was it your tight little virgin ass, that I fucked you so hard in. Tell me. Go on… don't be shy."

   "Thank you, for fucking me that hard. Right in my… tight little virgin ass. I loved it. I can't wait for you to do it again."

   "Much better. Again, and call me mommy, little boy. Go."

   "Thank you mommy. For fucking my tight little virgin ass so hard. I love it, I want it again. Anytime you feel like it. Please? I'm begging you for it again, I really am. I promise you, I can't wait."

   "Now that, is what I call being thanked. And you're welcome. Anytime you want it, little boy. Just ask for it."

   "Okay…"

   "So. You submit to me, do you?"

   "I do, I do, I do."

   "Mm. Love hearing it, you have no idea. So? Beg me, to allow you. To submit to me. Make me know you crave it. Beg, little boy. Mommy likes to hear you beg, like a complete and total slut. Beg mommy to let you submit to me, and get used by me. Anytime I want to use you for that. Anywhere, anytime, any way I want. Beg me to allow you to submit to it."

   He did. He went on and on. He begged and pleaded for it. For me to let him. I walked around my willing and helpless victim, dragging the coiled bullwhip over him. I teased him by tapping just the tip of the lash on him, like swatting someone with a shoelace.

   "Do you really submit to me, and submit to me punishing you? When I feel like it. Sometimes, just for fun."

   "I do."

   "We'll see. Over the next couple weeks, I'm going to be a little rougher on you. In bed. Knowing you, you'll probably like it."

   "I do."

   "Do you realize, that dressing me and undressing me, is part of sex?"

   "I do."

   "I'll start punishing you for any slip ups for that. I want it down pat, before I need it. I am so looking forward, to you dressing me for practice, and then undressing me and caring for me like you do, when I get home. I'll be exhausted, I'm going to love it. I'll reward you in many ways, for making me that happy, trust me. There are many upsides, to submitting to mommy."

   "I can't wait."

   "And the games? Dressing me for the home games, then undressing me and caring for me then, will be even more important to me. I'm going to come home beat to hell, and sore as hell. Your rewards, for taking care of me like that? Literally anything you want. You're fulfilling my fantasy, and you can have anything for it. I mean that. Just ask. I want to have the happiest little boy that any girl ever had."

   "I hope you like it."

   "Oh, I will. I know it. I already can't wait for my dressing and undressing, and my shower time. Some of my favorite things."

   "Thank you."

   "You're very welcome. Now, I'm about to let you get up. You've been very good. I want to sit down, and get some of your little kisses and licks. You know how mommy likes that. You can beg a little more, to let you submit to me, and to everything I want. Then I'll tell you a little something I want, before we have more naughty movie night. I recorded this, you know."

   "Just tell me what you want. I'll do anything. I promise."

   "I'll tell you…"

   I got him undone, and I just left the handcuffs on, and had a rope to lead him around with by them. I walked him around some, made him say a few things now and then. Mostly "I'm a little slut", over and over. Then I sat down in the chair I took around to the end of the table he had been bent over, and had him get down, and give the kisses and licks I enjoyed so much. I had him keep repeating, that he was a little slut, and beg to let me allow him to submit to me. I had him be careful of the pile of come he made when I finished him off, as I was done pounding him mercilessly at the end. I had replaced his blindfold not long after I removed it. So I took his blindfold off before I released him, and turned around for him, showing him what I looked like in it. He complimented me to no end, and told me how hot I looked. I let him clean it off, then had him kiss it when it was clean. I made him promise to let me use it again. He did, of course.

   Then, he asked what I wanted while he was groveling and giving the kisses, and begging to be allowed to submit and me formally accepting him.

   "You made a mess. It's right there."

   "I'm sorry I made a mess…"

   "Don't be sorry. Just clean up your mess. You know how to clean up a mess now. I showed you at breakfast. Every drop."

   He licked it up, off of the floor in front of me, at my feet where he had been groveling. It was just off to the side of me.

   "Humiliating, isn't it? Being made to lick it up, like a slut. When you're done, don't forget to thank me. For allowing you to clean up your mess, and not punishing you for it, instead."

   He finished, and did. Then I had him kneel in front of me upright, and look up at me.

   "Now. I try to be fun. Don't I let you look at the girls, running around in their underwear and T shirts? Hmm? I know you like it, and I enjoy seeing you happy. Looking. It's not a problem. Is Little Lightning your favorite? Its okay, tell me."

   He blushed and admitted she was.

   "Look all you want. At any of them. As long as there's no… show being put on. But enjoy the free leg show. My treat. Breakfast, and then again before bedtime? Best times for your little leg show you like. Sneak all the peeks you want."

   "Thank you."

   "But remember, little boy. If I catch you setting so much as half a step into any of those rooms, without me there? You'll get a very severe punishment. Trust me. Not a fun thing, like we do. I'm talking severe. There will be a very long talk about that, if it ever happens. You need to understand, that there will be no excuses for it. I will not throw you out, but… you will probably get severely punished, over some time. More than once or twice. You'll regret you ever tried it. Don't test me on this. I'm warning you up front. That lowest sub basement? Right there for me to make use of, anytime I feel the need to have a little talk with you. You can enjoy fun talks down there, but, you don't want to ever go down there for anything serious. Promise me you understand me."

   He promised me.

   "All right. Come with me. Treat for the birthday boy…"

   I led him upstairs, with the rope tied to his handcuffs in front of him. Gentle tugs, giggling. I took him to number three's room. The messiest one.

   "I'm with you. It's fine. Just watch you don't step on a used condom. She lives like a pig, I can't believe guys actually fuck her after they see this shit. It's disgusting…"

   I went and pulled out her stash. I pulled a handful of pot out, and showed it to him, before I put it back. It was so big a bag, she'd never miss a little.

   "Another secret. Did you ever notice, that for whatever reason? That its mainly the soccer team, in high school and then in college, that has players that smoke pot?"

   "I wasn't one of the cool kids in high school, but I noticed the older players did it, yeah. Later, after I smoked, when I got out of the service? A friend that played soccer, explained to me, that when he kept mentioning he played soccer in high school, he was hinting he smoked. He had to explain what you just explained to me."

   "I don't know why. Its always just the soccer team. In fact, soccer coaches know this. No soccer coach with half a brain? Would ever ask the players to piss in a cup, he'd risk losing his best players. Its just how it is. Yes, I smoke a little. No cigarettes, and nothing else. This hot little mess that lives in this pigsty? Is… more or less the team pot dealer, basically. You ever want a sack? Just ask her. If you trust someone? You get it for them, and you never say where you got it. They don't see you come home and come out with it. Are we understood? Its another secret."

   "I understand."

   "Good. Then understand this. You come in here to pinch some? That means you set foot in her room, and you'll get the ass beating of your life, just like I promised you. Not because you took some, I could give a shit less about that. Because it means you set foot in her room. I'll whip the ever loving shit out of you, for setting foot in any of these three bedrooms, no questions asked. Even if the girls aren't in them. Understood?"

   "I understand."

   "All right. Don't ever forget it. Now then, you ask me? I'll get us some. Now grab that bong, that little one. That's mommy's favorite…"

   He picked it up and I led him, again giggling by gently tugging on his handcuff's rope.

   "Come on, little slut. Try to keep up…"

   I took him down in the living room, and we smoked bong hits until we were both glassy eyed. I played the phone videos, for naughty movie night. I enjoyed seeing him red eyed, little peepers glued to the phone screen-cast videos. He liked my bullwhip performance videos, it turned him on, and I mean go figure. He blushed and I mean blushed bad, when I had him watch the video of him over my knee with me on the chair in the basement. He blushed more, when we watched him getting tied and handcuffed thoroughly to the kitchen table, and me banging the ever loving shit out of him. He had been mostly blindfolded, now he got to see everything for the first time. We smoked and watched some more than once.

   He blushed extra bad, when I replayed him cleaning up the mess at my feet several times.

   I had him grovel at my feet a little, then informed him I needed licked thoroughly. I had gotten so wet fucking him, it was unreal. I had him lick my legs, too. From my ankles to my thighs and twat, paying particular attention to my upper inner thighs. That was where I got the most on me. I flicked his little name tag on his collar locked onto his neck once in a while, smiling, before shoving his face back to work. Eventually, I wiped off on his face. He thanked me copiously for being allowed to lick me, without even being asked. I was very happy with his performance.

   I had him bend over the end of the couch for me, just to see that he would. I teased him by running the coiled up bullwhip over him. I had him beg not to get hurt, I had him beg to get fucked some more. Enough time had passed, that the movies and the fun had his interest level returning. I had him get us cold drinks, then had him bend over the table, with his rear facing the living room. I had just enough room.

   I had him say what I wanted, and snapped the whip near him, without touching him with it. He jumped and tried to stay still. I had him beg not to get it again, and he did. Quite convincingly, I might add. I got him back into the living room, and had him bend over the end of the couch again.

   "I wanted to see that you were listening to me. Very good. You got hard finally, watching the dirty movies I made of us. Ask me to fuck you."

   He did.

   "I told you, that you'd be handcuffed the second time I did it. I expect you to not scream, and not need to be tied down for it. Don't let mommy down. Any serious screaming, or trying too hard to get away? Or telling me no… you know what will happen, right?"

   I ran the coiled up whip he was so scared of over him, to emphasize my point. He promised.

   "All right. You can beg me not to hurt you too bad, you can beg me to go slow. That's what I kept asking you, the first two times I let you in my rear. Are you curious about this time, how it will go? You were screaming and crying up a storm, your first time. You nervous?"

   He admitted he was a little nervous.

   "Yeah, but don't worry. It hurts the worst the first time, and after that? If you relax, it gets better."

   He begged me with hoarse whispers to please go slow, to please not hurt him too bad. I bent over him, and got an arm around his neck and hugged him to me, kissing and shushing him, biting his neck gently to drive him wild. I'd already sent him to get the baby oil, and I lubed up the jelly toy I still wore, and started into him. I held my hand over his mouth, as I slid in. I whispered in his ear a sort of running commentary.

   "Shh. See, it's not so bad. I did it a little while ago, you can still do it pretty easily. Watch…"

   It didn't take nearly the effort I had to put into the virgin ass rape he just endured. His nervousness subsided considerably, as I eased each little stroke in further every once in a while. I didn't have to baby his ass a millimeter at a time, I could go a quarter inch each advancement now. I no longer used the safety stop. I'd say before half in, I started to get the squealing, but nothing even remotely similar to the first time, to be sure. A few tears with the squealing after half, but again nothing serious. I let his mouth go when I saw he was being reasonable. The squeals were fun to listen to. In between whines and squeals, he softly begged me to just please not hurt him, he would be good, he promised.

   I turned on the motor, volume knob on high, and selected number three. Longer randoms. Somewhere around three quarters in, I whispered that it was time. I told him on three, I would do it. He nodded and puckered up, nervous and a little afraid. On three, I began a really slow but steady push, until I was all the way in. He pulled my hand over his mouth to stifle his squeals, and there were some tears. After the now obligatory hip rolls when I was all the way in, I began my long in and out stroke, followed by my hip rolling at the end of each one. I finally let his mouth go, when I saw it was just some whining and squealing, and the tears. He begged constantly, just please not to hurt him.

   I remembered my little slut riding reins from the first time, so I put the thicker middle part of my heavy leather bullwhip in his mouth. I could grab on either side of his mouth and haul back, a bigger and thicker version of the kitchen table's bandanna reins. I could also grab both slut reins in one hand, tight to the back of his head. This allowed me to position him where and exactly how I desired him to be, leaving a free hand for whatever I needed or wished.

   I hit button four and he made noises and squirmed some, and I began panting from what it did to my own pleasure button. I didn't give it to him nearly as hard or as fast as his introduction had been. When I came and recovered, I stood him up and entered him fully from behind, and stayed in all the way. I whispered in his ear to beg me to be finished, and he did. I stroked him off, and cupped my hand over it and caught all of it. When I sat back down on the couch, I had him kneeling in front of me. Amid the little kisses, he thanked me for fucking him, he thanked me for going slow, and thanked me for not hurting him. When I finally had enough, I smiled and presented him my hand. He nodded and now knew to clean up the mess he made, without being told to explicitly.

   I ended up sitting on the couch, with him kneeling on the floor in front of me. I ended up with my knees over his shoulders, and it was fast becoming one of my favorite positions to sit around lazy with him, and reach out and grab him for kissing. I've started grabbing him and kissing him more lately. I mentioned it, and he likes it. I start and stop the lip action, and I take the lead. My hands on his head guiding him, and he follows. I like to stop and tease him, holding his head out some while I make silly faces or licking my lips and practicing my bedroom face. Yeah, sometimes a little stern mommy face and voice thrown in with a wink, just for fun.

   I like licking his nose or his face. Either a fun little lick now and then, or sometimes the big doggy licks. The first time I did it during kissing, he smiled. When I asked him later about it, he admitted he liked it. When I do extra slutty kissing during sex, I use it a lot more. Kissing before, during, and after sex is important, don't get me wrong. But amusing yourselves kissing, especially for extended periods of time, shows intimacy and closeness. A lot of mammals "kiss", even though it's not what humans recognize as a kiss. They sniff and groom each others face and mouth. You'll see it from animals that are closer with each other than with the others. Its a social bonding thing, and often independent of mating.

   I want to be close with my boyfriend, as close as possible. I want to bond. I see so many couples that put the kibosh on kissing. Girls are doing it more these days, too. No, not in public. I have makeup on, I told you this before. Not while we eat, not after we eat, etc.

   Let me go down the line on these, for your benefit. Not in public. Kissing in public shows the relationship to everyone. If you have deep feelings for your boyfriend, why are you so ashamed to show that relationship off in public? If you're not hiding from some other secret boyfriend, maybe you're trying to make an ex jealous and this guy is just a filler. Or maybe you just don't like him that much and he's mister right now, until you find something you like better. Boys? It's a red flag all the way around, for all kinds of possible reasons, when a girl won't kiss you some in public or has reasons not to or when, to control the behavior. None of them are good.

   While eating, no kissing. Really? Guys, this is a sign of things to come. Rules that she'll make up, and demand to be allowed to enforce them. Just because she can, and just because you'll allow. Get ready for the laundry list. You have hooked up with a complete spoiled bitch. Yelled at for where you put your shoes, where you put your coat. The glass goes here, not over there. The paper towels go this way, not that way. Hold my purse, I'll be back. Don't you ever go in my purse without asking me. Move that? Over there. The kind of girl that likes to "show off" how mean and controlling she can be in public. Yeah. A real joy to be around all day every day. How do these spoiled bitches get married again? Oh, I forgot. Hair, makeup, and clothes. The guy friends go, dude… she's hot. Don't date and marry for looks exclusively, at the expense of personality and demeanor.

   The famous I have make up on excuse. First off, you caked all that shit on and painted your face like the Sistine chapel for over an hour, exactly why again? To make yourself look more attractive, I get that. Who are you trying to look more attractive to, exactly. Your guy is right there, and he wants to kiss you in public. Now you refuse him that. Gee. You're not trying to be more attractive to him, or you'd want the kiss. You must be concerned with all the other guys around. This new thing, that women dress cute and do makeup for primarily other women, not for men? I get the points to it, but… meh.

   Try wearing less makeup. You want a guy that likes your actual face. Then, if you get all dolled up for a big dinner, its a treat for him. Boys, if you don't like her coming out of the shower, don't bother. I know I grew up with a mother trying like hell to put me in heels, expect me to stand and watch her how to do hair, nails, makeup, clothes, etc. Yawn. Wiffle-ball, mom. Tackle football.

   If my mom tried to put girly stuff on me, my guy friends made fun of me. Hello, we all grew up primarily on farms. We ran around the fields and woods all the time. By the time we were teenagers and went into town, I looked like my guy crew did. Jeans, T shirts. Shorts would be nice, but we got too many ticks and chiggers and a whole host of other things that need dug out with a penknife and leave a mark that looks like hell.

   A flannel in case I needed it, extended my summer wardrobe into spring and fall. A sweatshirt or a hoodie extended it even further. An insulated work jacket with a good insulated hood, extended it even more. I didn't wear skin tight jeans, because how else are you going to wear long johns in the winter. I still got boys asking me out dressed like this.

   My hair? Ponytail. Basic cut. If I couldn't jump out of the shower and pull my hair back and go, I was pissed. As a college athlete, a lot of us do this. Some girls still go the hair route, though. God bless them, I have better things to do with my schedule than sit around all day worrying about my hair. I've had to "rescue" girls that wear heels and mini skirts and skimpy tops in the dead of winter. Car broke down on the side of a back road? They'd have died.

   I decided a long time ago. If a boy doesn't like me for the way I look? I don't need him. If he's actually attracted to the clothes, the hair, the makeup? Go get one of those. If I had a nickel for every time I got no attention, until I suddenly showed up in shorts? Yeah. In jeans, if that's all you see me in, I know. I look "sightly chubby". I suddenly wear shorts, or they see me in a bathing suit? The chubby lower legs, the chubby thighs and butt? I actually don't have a scrap of fat on me.

   The lack of drooling attention from all the boys on campus doesn't bother me as much as the girly girls probably think. The flip side of my tomboy life? I can walk up to any group of guys, and talk like they do. I can go tons of places, as another one of the guys. I'm seen often enough out with a pack of guys. I push and shove and laugh and tease with them, too. Easily. Its not fake. And when guys aren't supposed to take "a girl" along because it ruins the male experience because everyone has to stop and constantly cater to the girly girl, well… I don't get counted out.

   My boyfriend is kneeling in front of me right now, getting a kissing marathon after, well, after he got what he just got bent over the end of the couch. My legs are thrown over his shoulders quite suggestively. He stared at my body often enough in jeans and T shirts and flannel work shirts. He deserves my legs he loves so much. I make it a point to walk around with bare legs all the time indoors for him. He deserves my attention.

   Now I'm in the late middle game of his fun main birthday night. One of the main attractions for this, he already got. The surprise sex toy purchase. Strapped helplessly over the kitchen table, and used really rough like a complete sex toy for a while. Collaring him and officially "naming" him my slut. The extra rough and humiliating extended rape? He'd been hinting at enjoying something along those lines. I knew I'd enjoy myself, but oh god it surprised me how much. He'll get that again, I'm sure. The collar and the name? Fairly common and expected in these games, the more I read online.

   I'm already in charge during sex. Locking a collar around him that he has to have me take off of him, reinforces my sexual authority. It demonstrates that I own him, with the name tag. When I start jokingly calling him "slut" around other people, it'll be our private little joke. Like when all I have to do is put my feet together and smile over at him on the sly. A roomful of people, and I'm flirting with him more successfully than any girly girl can do with all her mechanisms she uses on her guy.

   He liked the chores scenarios, the little ones leading up to our big night. So, one or more bigger ones tonight was an easy pick. I'm sure vanilla couples wonder how in the hell a couple like us, can spend all day from before sunrise, to after midnight having hours of sex. They have three pumps and a dump. Special occasion, I guess she gets on top or whatever. Please. There's 15 minutes a couple times, what's the rest of the special night or weekend planned, huh? Watching TV, eating something different. Oh. She wears the new high heels for him. Wow. Spectacular. How will the sexual interest and fascination between you ever fade, I wonder. Ours will grow and flower over time. Theirs? The first few weeks or months will be "magical", then the predictable spark dying into ho hum everyday routine.

   I flicked his name tag, and called him my little slut again.

   "Why are you staring at my face, when I'm obviously done kissing you for the moment. Eyes down, slut. You got the basic idea of who's in charge during sex. But when I lock your little collar on you? You need to be a lot more careful. Kisses. Now."

   "You, seem to think you got, what… hired on or something? Because I allowed you to submit to me. Newsflash. Its a lot more like a tryout. I'll let you know, if and when you make it to even getting on probation. I need to see a lot of improvement, and I just don't see it happening. You think I'm going to keep letting things slide all the time? I can't. Just not. Yet another great example. You already know you need permission to look at me when we're alone like this. You have a locked collar around your neck, and you're still going to look at me whenever you feel like it? Oh, that's great. Stop. Don't speak."

   "I'm just going to have to find some way to teach you to keep your eyes down, until you're given permission to look up at me. I thought you already knew. That when I'm done kissing you, eyes go back down. Do you think I can't come up with some way to explain it, hmm?"

   "You. Down there. I'm curious. Do you, or do you not, already know about this. When I'm in charge, and you know I am right now, your eyes go down unless I tell you otherwise, right? Yes or no."

   "Yes."

   "Okay. So… what just happened. I wanted to kiss you. Then, I was done. If you already know better, what was that for. Care to explain it to me."

   "Oh. Nothing to say. But, you obviously know better. So, are you… what. Testing me, or daring me. Because I think its both. All right. Here's what we're going to do. You? Are going to go find a bucket. Go. Find one. Don't ask me where it is. If you were trying to help out and do things without being asked? Well then, you'd already know where it is. You should already know. And You don't. What does that tell you? Go. Find it. Move. And don't make me come looking for you, either. Only warning you'll get on that. Shoo."

   He went around looking. I'm sitting here on the couch, waiting. When he went down to the regular basement to find one, I took my toy off finally, and returned to the couch. I'm trying to keep a straight face, by the way. I deliberately and previously already made the bucket more difficult to notice. After a little while, I stood at the top of the basement steps.

   "I thought I just told you. Don't make me come looking for you. If I have to come looking for you in the basement, I don't think that's a real safe place for you to get a little talk, do you? Just another one of those polite suggestions. Now, if you want another little talk down there with just me and you, think back on the last talk we had down there. This one? Will take a little longer. Move it!"

   Oh god, I gotta try to keep a straight face.

   I was back on the couch, acting bored on my cellphone when he finally brought up the bucket. I pointed down, and got kisses. I spoke as if I was bored and distracted, not looking up from the cellphone.

   "What exactly do you think I want you to do with a bucket in the living room, huh?"

   "The kisses are nice, but. What room do you possibly think the bucket would be of the slightest use in, hmm? You tell me."

   "Bathroom?"

   "There's a built in spray foam wand cleaner in there. Try again."

   "Kitchen."

   "Better guess."

   "Why are you still here, exactly? Don't you think you should take the bucket into the kitchen. Hmm? Wait for me. I'll be in when I'm ready. You like doing nothing, so… should be perfect for you."

   I hope I can keep a straight face through this. After a short wait, I came into the kitchen.

   "Well. Let's see. I see you. I see a bucket. Don't you think some water in the bucket, would make it more useful. About two thirds full. Not cold, not hot. Warm water. Go."

   "Okay. Now? Go find a sponge. Yeah, another thing you don't know where it is. And once again, that should tell you something. When you find the sponges? There's a pack of new ones. Bring a brand new one. And if I were you? Don't make me come looking for you. There's your clue. Get."

   When he was back, I took the brand new sponge, and the bandanna previously used as a gag on him. Its a wide, long and fairly thin sponge, and its rectangular. I basically tied the bandanna around his mouth normally, but with the rectangular sponge under it. Oh god, thank god the thing's big enough to hide his eyes the way its positioned, I had to cover my mouth this is so silly.

   "Kisses."

   I got the sponge bouncing and scraping my feet.

   "Not terribly useful for that, is it? I'll bet you're wondering what we're going to do now. Bucket of warm water. Sponge. And, wonder of all wonders. We just happen to have a little boy who can't look down when he should be. Same little boy, who needs told to do things. So. I guess I'll have to clean the floor. You? Can see how it gets done. And, while we're at it? You'll be learning where your eyes go."

   I unlocked the cuffs with the rope on them, and got two pairs with no rope. One cuff of one pair on one wrist. One cuff of the other pair on the other wrist. Leaving two dangling empty cuffs. I interlocked those together. I had him get down and move around, no, that wasn't right. I ended up going with the original handcuffs with the rope on them. Both cuffs on one wrist. Another pair went with both cuffs on the other wrist. The rope already tied to one short chain, I tied to the other. The left over went back and got tied to the little chain on the other wrist where it started.

   I stood back and looked at my craft work. Looked better. Still shackled up, and now able to have his hands free to move around on all fours like I was going to need to have him.

   "Kisses."

   Sponge bouncing on my feet again. I giggled.

   "I bet you can't wait for me to show you what we're going to do…"

   I got down on the floor with him. I grabbed him by the back of the collar, and took him over to the bucket of warm water, and dunked his face in it. I then "scrubbed" the already clean floor with the sponge. I went back and forth a few times. Using my "sponge" to clean the area of floor I was on. Then I moved a little, and took him with me. Repeat. I took my sweet old time, and "cleaned" the entire kitchen floor with him. It took a while.

   This gave me a nice, long opportunity to give lots of lectures. Lots of stern, irritated mommy voice. This is how we wait, on all fours, just like you are now. We keep our eyes down, until we're told to do otherwise. When you see I'm done with kissing you or anything else? This is where you go back to looking. See how your face is always down on the floor? You better get used to it. Why am I cleaning the floor. If you don't take the initiative to do it without being told, and I have to do it? This is how its going to get done. And this spot, here? This is the spot you made a naughty mess at. Smeared it around with your tongue, instead of doing a better job. So? We're going to spend a lot more time, in this spot. Lots of dunking and cleaning right there happened.

   "Now. What did we learn. You tell me."

   He had to go through the laundry list of the lectures. When he missed one, or didn't get it fully? Well, you get the idea. I told him to stay on all fours like that, and he could show me what he learned about where his face and eyes go, when I don't have a use for him yet.

   We were both on the already clean tile floor, now warm water was everywhere. It was all over both of us. I suddenly realized it. We're both naked, crawling around on the floor, soaking wet. He's following my every instruction. This thought went through my head while I happened to be kneeling behind him. The compulsion struck. One of those extra naughty thoughts that just pop in and run across your mind's eye, all with a life of their own.

   If I just had my toy strapped to me right now. My body got warm all over, a mild rush. Its right up there, in a box. I could grab it in a second. He's listening right now, he's on all fours. The way I'm kneeling behind him, I could just… grab those hips and go to town on him. Okay, file that naughty image away for some other time. I can't risk getting another finish out of him right now. I need him horny. You can't put your willing victim over your knee for an extended naughty butt smacking fun time, if they're not horny. If you do it right after they finish? There's just pain and discomfort and humiliation. If they're ready to go, well, it really gets their juices flowing. I could still use the naughty compulsion image in some way though.

   "All right. Let's get this off of you now. Floor's clean. You? Stay put. Not done with you yet."

   I untied the bandanna and got the sponge out. Hmm. I laid down on my back, and crossed my legs.

   "You. I'm already soaked. Use that sponge and warm water on me. No naughty touching. Get to it."

   I got the warm water and sponge bath. Every inch of me laying there. Then I turned over, and had that side done as well. I enjoyed having him run his hands all over me from head to toe. Both sides, more than once. Eventually, I got him back onto all fours, and sponged him off. Then, I decided to rub my wet hands all over him, too. No naughty touching on my part either. Building interest. Stuck for a segue for where I wanted to get to at the end, I sat on the chair, and had him over to put my feet on him and use him for a footstool. Here and there, I'd lift his chin with my foot, and give him warnings and instructions.

   My long medium thickness switch was close at hand. I picked it up, and swished it around a couple times.

   "Those eyes stay down, mister. We just went over that lesson, at great length. You don't want to go over it again, with this thing. Now then. You've been fucked, nice and hard. Twice now. Isn't that right. I already told you, the next time? I don't expect I have to tie you down for it. I liked it, and we're going to do it again. Whenever I decide to fuck you like that, nice and hard? You, are going to be on board with the program."

   I posed him, to see how I was going to want him when it happened. Legs together. No, legs out more. Ankles straight, or… ankles coming in. I tapped his ass or any other part of his body as I went around seeing how it was going. Nose down on the floor, there we go. You get that ass up, and you keep it up. Arch your back. There. That's how you're going to take it next time. Now stay like that, and don't move until I tell you to. Because next time, this is how you're going to get ready for me. This is how you're going to stay, while I'm banging you.

   "All right. Get over in front of me. Under the table. Kisses."

   Then I put my legs up on the table, and spread them.

   "Eyes stay down. But get up on your knees, and get your face up here. Don't you dare look at me, and don't you dare lick, kiss, nothing. Just get your face in it, and stay. There. Just like that. Now? Just do nothing. You're good at that, judging by your performance on the couple of little chores you get."

   "You, got fucked, didn't you. Yeah, you did. Now? You're a slut. Yeah, it makes a slut all hot and bothered to scream, and cry the first time or two. Pretending they don't like it, but they obviously do. You liked it. You got hard, you got so wet. You came with me all the way inside you. Yeah, that's a slut all right. Finished off, while getting banged like that. Then, the next time. Bent right over the couch. Sluts bend over for it."

   "Hmm. You know what else? I'll tell you. Next time? I'm not making love to it, like I had to the first time. Fucking around all day with you. Oh, no way. Quickie. We proved it fits, we proved you can take it. You better beg for lube, too. Oh yeah, the only thing I better hear out of your mouth, after you get ready and stay still for me? Please bang me like you mean it. I mean, you can beg not to get it hard, but… won't help. If it makes it hot for you to beg, go on. Aw, please go slow. Pffft. Please don't hurt me. Yeah, right. Next time? You're getting fucked right."

   "Oh yeah, we're gonna solve this. I wonder how many times its gonna take, before you sit still and learn to be good for it, huh? How many times before you come and ask for it. Yeah, that's the end of it all. The little slut, that started out saying no no no, needed raped because you're too shy to ask for what you already know you want anyways… then they start taking it. Finally, one day? Yeah, they come and have to ask for it."

   "Hmm. You gonna thank mommy for fucking you so hard? You better not forget that one. Yeah… you're gonna get into position for it, when I tell you. Then beg for the lube… then beg me to fuck you like I mean it. Then, you'll thank me for it when its finally over."

   I rubbed his head and face gently now, while he had his face between my legs.

   "And now? Its getting to be that time. This morning? Making mess after mess. Tried to give you a gentle reminder? That sure didn't work, did it. Wouldn't sit still. Wouldn't keep your mouth shut. Then, I find the garbage. The dishes. I tried to fuck you like I wanted? You didn't like that either. I had to go through hell just to get you to admit you liked it, to admit that you wanted it. I'm still getting backtalk and sass. I'm not happy at all with that. Now then. What the hell do you think we're gonna have to do about all this, huh?"

   "Yeah, don't even have anything to say. Don't try. You already know what I have to do with you. Go on. You tell me what you think needs done right now. What kind of a nice, long talk do you think we need to have about all that, hmm? You… tell… me. And you better get it right the first time, too. You know. And if I were you? I wouldn't wait to make me ask you again. Speak."

   "Please…"

   "Please what. You think I should just let all that slide? Uh uh. Not happening. One thing, once in a while? Maybe. A long list like that, all in one day? No way. And I seem to remember we just had a little talk, not too long ago. I can see how well that talk worked. I can see how long it lasted. Apparently, you need a much longer talk. A much more serious talk. Is that what you meant when you started out with please? Please what. Please… give a longer talk this time? Because that's what we're going to have to do. A nice, long talk."

   "Now. Tell me where we're going."

   "Basement."

   "That's right. That's exactly right. And what happens in the basement. Hmm?"

   "Chair."

   "Oh. So you do remember. Do you like the basement, and the long talks with me and the chair?"

   "No."

   "Really? Then why do we have to keep having these talks. If you remember the last one. And you know what not to do. Then, all I can figure? Is that you must like it. So since you like it, and keep asking for it. And keep asking for more. What's gonna happen, do you think? You tell me."

   "The basement, then the chair…"

   "Yeah. I got that part. What happens to you."

   "I go over your knee."

   "You do remember. Then what happens? Go on."

   "I get swats."

   "Uh huh. What happens when my hand starts to hurt."

   "The belt."

   "Oh. You do remember. Do you like the belt? Does the belt make any good things happen?"

   "No."

   "Well it sure must. Its like you forgot all about it. But now I see you remember it just fine. That means, you must like it. So, since you like it so much, we'll just have to have a much longer talk with mommy's belt this time."

   "Please…"

   "Please give you the belt twice as hard and twice as long as last time? Sure thing. Wanna know a secret? After my hand hurts. Then, after you get the belt, twice as hard and twice as long. Then? We're trying something else, after that. We'll see if we can understand each other. Now. Go get two clean towels. You're gonna dry me off before we get dressed."

   I had him put one towel down, for me to step onto just outside the kitchen entrance. I held out one foot, then the other. Then I got the rest of me dried off. When I was done, I had him dry himself quick.    

   I took him upstairs, and I dressed while he did. I told him to go wait by the front door, I'd be down in a minute. I came down with a little beach bag. Ritual. Down and around to the privacy of the soundproof sub basement. The same key in the same lock. The same sounds unlocking and opening and closing and re-locking the door. Ritual. Not just any ritual. Our ritual.

   It gets added to, piece by piece. He added some begging. Please, please. Now it was trying to talk me out of it, and I kept taking his hand and dragging him along. I can't drag him if he doesn't really want to go. He obviously does. When we got in and the door was re-locked, I got more begging. This was fun. Scenario fun. I'm a perturbed mommy now. I crossed my arms and listened to the begging and promising. I let him go.

   "You done now? Now, you're getting more. Try it some more, I dare you."

   "No? Well. Go get your chair you like so much. Don't make me tell you again."

   "Over here. Right there."

   I sat down and crossed my arms, irritated.

   "Stand still. No more speaking. Now then…"

   I started counting off on my fingers.

   "Messes at breakfast, more than one. Polite correction? I tried it. Won't sit still. Won't keep quiet. That's two more. Garbage. Dishes. There's two more. Sass. There's another one. Then, you had the nerve… to give me a problem with what I wanted to do? That's another one. All this trying to talk me out of it? There's one more. Where are we. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Probably more I can't even remember now. That's seven nice, long talks. So we're going to be down here? For a while this time. And you just wait till the end. I have a big surprise waiting for you this time. Now then. Strip!"

   He got undressed. Stood there. Looking down.

   "Oh. Now you decide to look down. Typical. You think that's going to save you?"

   No answer.

   "I said. Do you think, that, will, save, you. Don't make me ask again. You sure picked a funny time to not answer me when I ask you a question. Speak!"

   "No."

   "No? No what."

   "No. It won't save me."

   "At least you got something right. Nothing can save your little ass right now. Get over here. You know where to stand. We do this enough, you'd think you knew it off by heart."

   "Let's go. Over my lap. Don't make me tell you again."

   "Please…"

   "Please, huh? I'll show you please. You wanna say please? Fine. Apparently, that's all you know how to say."

   I grabbed his wrist and pulled him down over my lap. Cradled him over my muscular legs. Naked, he can feel the slightly rough material of my jeans. I reached down into my little beach bag, my tiny one. Two of the handcuffs in the blemished stack, were different. They were the kind that were really solid, no chain. Just a solid, sturdy hinge. Both were blems, because one side was black, and the other side chrome. The machinery changing over. Rejects. Not a thing wrong with them, and they were top of the line otherwise.

   "Hands. Now."

   "Please…"

   I clicked his wrists into these new ones he hadn't seen yet. There was no twisting and pulling like in the normal handcuffs. Much more immobilized wrists now.

   "Legs up. Now!"

   "No… please…"

   The ankles got the same treatment. This was so much faster than using rope, although rope and the tying ritual, is a lot more intimate and deliberate. Convenience, though. I double locked both.

   "Well. Here we are again. Now, I keep hearing please… please… and that's bad enough. You're getting more for that, just so you know. Plenty more. But I just heard the word no come out of your mouth. Uh uh. When we're all done? We're going to have a very special additional talk, all about using the word… no."

   "Don't worry. No counting. You wanna know why? I think we're gonna be here so long this time, that there's no counting it all. Now. Since you like to say please so much? Now's your chance. I wanna hear the word please. Go on. If I don't hear the word please? Over and over, until I get sick of hearing all the noise you're just about to start making? I dare you. Start saying please, and we're gonna see what it gets you. Get going!"

   I started smacking his ass with my hand, as hard and as fast as I could.

   "Please! I better hear it!"

   I got a stream of please, please. His early morning switch over breakfast, had a nicely prepared burning and stinging ass all ready. Numb bum had ended long ago. I had a clean canvas to work on now.

   "Go on. We're gonna find out what please? Gets you."

   I went hard and fast. Stopping to lecture some more about the please situation. This, was what trying to bargain out of it would get you. More. Then, I went right back into it. I got my sniffles. Then I got my tears.

   "Crying already? I heard that last time. Wanna guess what crying gets you? Take a guess! I can't hear please!"

   Now I got a stream of more and more please, mixed in with sniffles and crying.

   "You better not stop saying please. You like to say it so much? You're gonna keep saying it, and it looks like all night, the way things are going."

   Sobbing started. Please, with sobbing, was getting hard to make out. I had to stop and make some taunts over that, it was too good to pass that one up.

   "I can't hear you…"

   Then the screaming mixed in with the crying, sobbing, and please, made for a cacophony of sorts. The please got unintelligible for the most part, and I would get the occasional loud please, then back to the hot mess. What this got him in return, should be obvious. My now powerful right hand.

   I stopped to give a breathing break, but made it into a taunting lecture. I reached down and grabbed the bandanna. I tied that on, and went right back to work.

   "You want to cry? You know what that gets you. Something to cry for. Every. Single. Time."

   My hand was starting to feel it, so I went for broke.

   "Scream and cry all you want now. Go on."

   When my hand was at its end of usefulness, I stood him up so he could cry standing. I crossed my arms, and waited.

   "What. I heard all this whining and crying last time. It didn't get you anything but more last time. What makes you think it'll help this time, huh?"

   More sobbing.

   "What's that? I didn't quite get that. Oh, wait. I think I know what you want now…"

   Now more of the ritual. Standing up slowly, undoing the belt slowly. Taking it off ever so slowly. Sitting there, holding it doubled over.

   "Now? You got what you asked for. Mommy took her belt off. My hand doesn't work? We'll see how the belt works. You wanna keep crying?"

   "Oh, you do. Well, that works out perfect. Let's get you something to really cry for then. Let's go. You will put yourself, over my lap."

   I got a little "please", just in gag-talk.

   "Is that more please? That's it… I've had about all of this I'm gonna listen to…"

   I had to yank his wrist and put him over my lap again. As soon as I started, I decided to adjust the ritual some.

   "Let's just get right to the point then…"

   I put my leg over both of his, to prevent the squirming and pulling. My hand firmly on his neck pushing his head down.

   "Let's just get right to it… you won't sit still anyway, we'll just have to give you more this time."

   I used the belt as hard and as fast as I could, before my first safety breathing pause. Which is naturally, lecture time.

   "That? Was for telling me no! You will not tell me no! I dare you, to defy me, by telling me no! Do you understand what I'm telling you? Not yet you don't."

   I went through the same routine again. The belt, as hard and as fast as I could possibly go. To the next breathing pause from screaming, to get back to normal crying.

   "That's what please gets you! What do you think? Please will get you something else? Please will get you out of it? Please beat my little ass harder, that's what I think it means! Please beat my little ass longer, is that what its for? Lets find out!"

   Again.

   "Making a mess! You're not supposed to make a mess! You're supposed to clean messes up! What do you do? You make more! You won't clean them up! So? I'll just make a mess, right here, on your little ass! A nice big one!"

   Again.

   "That's for moving around, when I was trying to be nice and give you a gentle reminder! If you don't start standing still, you don't start being quiet, when you're told to? Then you get something to make noise for! You get something to move around for! Something, that's just like this!"

   Again.

   "That? Was for making noise when you were told to be quiet! We'll just go over that one again, to see if you get it this time! You move around, and won't keep quiet? This is what you get! Every! Single! Time!"

   Again.

   "Garbage! Why do you take the garbage out, just fine, when I'm sitting there! Why is it so impossible to do it yourself! Well, if you need me to help you take it out? Here's how I help you do it!"

   Again.

   "Dishes! Once again, works perfect when I'm sitting there watching you! By yourself? Wherever the hell you feel like putting them! Well, I'm going to put my belt, wherever the hell I feel like putting it now! Guess where that is? Right on your naked little ass!"

   Again.

   "Sass! I'm tired of the backtalk! I tell you! You don't tell me back! That's backtalk! That's sass! Here's what I have to say about sass! Maybe your ears are in your ass! Is your ass listening now? I guess I'll just explain it to your ass! Wanna guess how I'm gonna say it?"

   Again.

   "And that's for not sitting still right now! You just got your ass beat, because you wouldn't sit still this morning for a little talk! Now, you want to move around for this talk too? So here's something to move around for! Again!"

   Again.

   "And that's for not keeping quiet right now! Once again, you just got your ass beat for not being quiet for a talk! Now you think its a bright idea to make more noise? Great idea! Let's just give you a little something to help you make more noise!"

   Again. Again. Again. No more lectures now. Just remarks. Taunts. You want something to cry for? Fine. You want something to pull away from? Here it is.

   When I was done, I stood him back up.

   "Stand there. You better get that whiny shit out of your system, quick. I already heard all this last time."

   I sat there and watched.

   "Stand still!"

   I crossed my arms, and did the impatient waiting routine.

   "No, go on. You were saying? Keep going. This, is fascinating…"

   Me pretending to be listening to crying as a conversation, was another new one from me this time. The ritual. It grows, it changes. He added pulling away and begging to not get it. I added this. The ritual, will become so uniquely ours, that it's all our own. As unique, as how every couple kisses slightly different.

   "Nope. You go on. Get it out of your system. I want a fresh start, for our last conversation, little boy. We're going to have another little talk. And I want this talk? Heard loud and clear."

   I sat and waited, arms crossed impatiently. Eventually, the screaming had become crying, and the crying had went back to sobbing. You have to wait for the sobbing, to go back to intermittent sobbing. When we were back to the silent tears, and intermittent quieter sobs that came and passed, I continued.

   "There. We could have been all done. But no. You? Wanted us to have yet another little talk. And this talk? Will be special. I guarantee you it will be special. Now… you? What are you. Answer…"

   I leaned and flicked the little name tag, the tag that said "slut". That said he belonged to me. That I owned him. I smiled and flicked it a couple more times.

   "You? Are my slut. You have one important job, as my slut. When I want to do something? You do it. You do it, for me. We? Do what I want, in bed. That's how it works. What good, is a slut that doesn't do what I want, in bed? I want you to explain that one to me."

   "I'm waiting. All I hear is sniffles and whiny shit. I said explain it to me! That's twice. I dare you to make me ask you again…"

   "Sniffles? That's not an answer. That's no kind of explanation. So… let me show you, how I'm going to explain this? To you…"

   I reached down into the little beach bag, and slowly brought out the wooden paddle. I got squealing and fresh sobbing at the sight of it.

   "Oh. Now, you don't want to talk about it? A minute ago, you were just talking up a storm. Well I tell you what. We're going to have this little talk. Right now. And you know something? It's not going to be a short talk, either."

   "Are you ready for this talk? I don't think you are. But you know something? I wanna have this talk. So? We're having a nice, long talk."

   I pointed at my lap. He shook his head no and started sobbing.

   "Oh… bad idea. Telling me no. Refusing to get over my lap again? Uh uh."

   I grabbed his wrist and yanked him over, then swung my leg up and got him nice and tight and grabbed him by the collar. Now, I know not to grab him by the back of the collar. Safety first. Because that would put pressure on his throat, which could be dangerous. The safe way to hold him by the collar, I learned by reading on my favorite Domestic Discipline website, was to grab him under it. So, my hand went up from the bottom, palm down, and pulled his head firmly down. I let him squirm his little heart out some. With my legs scissored around his, there was no escape. My hand holding the collar now this way? Escape was even less possible. Before I even began, I simply teased the wooden paddle across his stinging, burning cheeks. Little whining already, and we hadn't even started.

   "Yeah. This is obviously the exact kind of little talk we need. Before we even get started? You just told me no again. No… fucking… way. Let mommy show you? What saying no, will get you. Then? We can get started on the main topic."

   I whacked his cheeks several times, nice and hard. I was rewarded with a high pitched squealing and instant sobbing.

   "We haven't even gotten started yet, little boy. Chores? Are one thing. But giving me a problem in bed? Big mistake. Huge."

   I gave him several more, harder and faster.

   "And that? Was just for the N."

   I gave him more, nice hard ones, rapidly.

   "There's the O."

   More.

   "What's that spell?"

   More.

   "It spells no. You will not tell me no. Lets go over that again. Let's discuss it some, now that I seem like I have your attention…"

   I counted to 24, just not out loud. The screaming and crying, was nothing short of epic.

   "Now then. That was just for telling me no. Now? We're going to discuss you, not going over my lap, and me needing to make you. Let's begin that discussion."

   I whacked his ass hard and fast again. The result was predictable.

   "Now. Next time? Maybe you'll go over my lap, like you know you're supposed to. We'll see. But if you don't next time? Just this part of the talk, will be much longer, trust me. Now then…"

   Again.

   "That? Was just me repeating myself. You made me ask you more than once a little bit ago. Allow me to repeat that again, so I can make sure you got it."

   Again, harder.

   "There we go. Now? Let's take a little break, shall we? We have so much to talk about, and we'll spend all night here if we have to. Doesn't hurt me, not one bit. You, on the other hand… well, you can see what it does for you. We're going to start at the beginning."

   A series of hard fast cracks.

   "I am in charge? Of naughty time. Period."

   One super hard crack.

   "Got that? Since you like me to repeat myself? One more time, to make sure you got it."

   Another really hard one, other cheek.

   "Now then. You? Are my little slut. Let me spell that out for you."

   Hard one.

   "S…"

   Again.

   "L…"

   Again.

   "U…"

   Again.

   "T…"

   Four hard fast ones.

   "That spells slut. That? Is you. Now then. I wanted something this morning. Did I get it without a big, complicated rigmarole? No, I didn't."

   Nice hard one.

   "Now. I knew it was right up your alley."

   Again.

   "When we were done? You admitted, that you liked it."

   Again.

   "The second time? Much better, I admit."

   Several hard, fast ones.

   "We'll do it that way? The first time. And since you like to hear me repeat myself? I'll repeat that for you."

   Something in the neighborhood of another 24 again. Nice hard fast ones.

   "Now. Was I asking for anything that all the other sluts don't do for their players? Nope. What makes you think that you, are going to be contrary? Answer. You aren't going to be. And I'll tell you why, right now. Here's why…"

   A repeat of the 24ish again. Epic, truly epic, noise and commotion.

   "The screaming and crying I understand. That pulling, like you think you're getting somewhere right now? Uh uh. Let me address that…"

   A beautiful hard one.

   "Are you getting my point? Maybe now, you're listening. Here's what will go on tomorrow morning. We'll still have the place to ourselves. When we wake up? I am going to want, what I did twice today. The second time? Went much better. Now, this will be the third time. Here's what you'll do. You'll remember that position I showed you on the wet kitchen floor. You'll do it for me, when I tell you. You? Will beg me for it. You'll dress me in my new toy. You'll get it ready, meaning, you'll lube it up for me. Then? You'll get into the position I already showed you. Now listen up, slut…"

   Another beautiful hard one, on the other cheek to match the last one.

   "Then? You'll ask me for it, and ask me to do it like I mean it. Because, I did that for you, on my third time. This? Is now your third time. The third time is the charm. Then? I'll go about doing it. Like I mean it. Some tears, some crying? I understand that. But, you will not scream. You will not tell me no. Now, I allow you to ask me, politely mind you… to please go slow. I will also allow you, because I'm so nice to you? To ask me politely, to not hurt you too bad. I may? Or then again, I may not. My choice? Not yours. You'll just have to find out when I do it, how it goes."

   Several hard fast ones.

   "You got all that?"

   Amid all the crying and squealing and screeching, he nodded his head several times, yes yes yes.

   "All right. Wanna guess what will happen, if I get any problems tomorrow morning?"

   Just crying.

   "Just checking, I didn't think so. Just thought I'd check. No sass this time. Wow, we might be getting somewhere. Of course, I thought that before. We'll see. Oh, one more thing…"

   Several hard ones that brought the screeching back.

   "You wanted to submit to me? What you've been doing, isn't the way to go about it. The way to get me to accept you wanting to submit to me? Is listening, being good, and doing exactly what I say. Particularly, in bed. Do I make myself clear?"

   A long series of yes, yes, yes.

   "Good. I don't know… would you like me to repeat all of this whole conversation, over from scratch? I know how you like to make me repeat myself. Would you like that? Yes or no."

   No, no, no.

   "So, we're done then?"

   Yes, yes, yes.

   "Great. I'm glad we could have this little talk. Are we going to have to have this talk again anytime soon?"

   No, no, no.

   "Really. Because that was what you said after the last talk. Yet here we are again. The next time we have to have this little talk again? This one? Will be a happy memory. Do I make myself clear this time?"

   Yes, yes, yes.

   "I think I'm going to just quit hurting my hand, gets me nowhere. The belt? Nice introduction. But this paddle? I seem to be getting my point across loud and clear, with a whole lot less work. How about that. You, can expect to have this particular conversation again, if I don't see immediate improvement all around, but particularly concerning matters in the bedroom. If you want to, we'll just schedule an every night talk like this. Do you think you need that?"

   No, no, no.

   "We'll just see. Tomorrow morning, will let me know what you decided. Now. I think we're done here. Unless… you want some more? I'd be happy to oblige you. Just ask. Want more of the same?"

   No, no, no.

   "Are you sure?"

   No, no, no.

   "All right. Now try to understand me here. This? Was just a pleasant introduction, to this new way of having our little talks. The next time you make me have this type of talk we're having now? I want you to imagine, getting something to cry for with this paddle. Me giving you something to really move around for. Sound like a good idea to you?"

   No, no, no.

   "Really. Because it sounds like a wonderful idea to me. I think the next time you want this little talk? I'm just going to go ahead, and not say a word, and simply start really giving it to you. I mean hard, I mean fast. No stopping. Maybe something like an hour straight. Would you like that?"

   No, no, no.

   "Well it sounds like a wonderful idea to me. Based on what I've seen? We'll be back down here again, in no time. It never sticks with you. The hour long talk doesn't work? The time after that, we'll just have to schedule a two hour long talk. We'll just see if that works. Now you tell me, is that what we have to do? If we do, I can just get right to it, right the fuck now. Go on. Test me. Dare me. Because I think, an hour straight, right this minute? Real hard, real fast, no breaks… we might as well get that out of the way right now… in fact, the more I think about it…"

   I rubbed the paddle on his ass cheeks… and without so much as a single crack, I got a truly epic performance.

   "You sure? Because I'm not sure. Fuck it, let's just go right to the two hours. Come on, right now. I got time. Test me, go on. Dare me. Yeah, the more I think about it, we might as well just get right down to it. Two. Nice. Solid. Hours. Yeah, I'm thinking, that's the way to go here…"

   I tapped the ass cheeks each several times. More epic performance art out of him.

   "I didn't quite catch that. Am I hearing begging? Let me hear you beg. Nice and loud. Let me hear it… because if I don't think you understand exactly how serious I am, I don't know…"

   I heard more, I felt more moving. I tapped around, taunting him.

   "More. Lots more. Don't you dare stop, or I'll start really giving it to you, and I mean good. Make me believe you, are these promises I hear?"

   Yes, yes, yes.

   "All right. Now, against my better judgment, mind you. I think I'll accept that promise. Now, tomorrow morning? If things don't go perfect? We come straight down here, no questions asked. One, maybe two hours. It will be bad. Real bad. You break these promises I just accepted? I will break your ass for it. Are we clear?"

   Yes, yes, yes.

   "All right then. You need to understand I'm serious about this. I'm tired of talking myself blue in the face, I'm sick and tired of hurting my hand. This? Is how we'll have our nice little talks from now on. Now… stand back up."

   I let his collar go, and he wiggled back up. Sniffling and sobbing. I put my belt back on myself this time, then I sat back down and went through the same routine as before, crossed arms, waiting.

   When he was finally done with the whiny stuff, I bent down and got my next item out of the little bag. I held up my coiled bullwhip.

   "Now then…"

   I uncoiled my little beauty and snaked it around a little. I smiled.

   "Oh. You probably thought, that we were done with this little talk. Maybe? You were wrong. Maybe, just maybe… you were very, very wrong."

   I snapped it out in the other direction. Down here, with all open space and the high ceiling, I could really use it and get the full effect. It went off like a gunshot that echoed in the big cement box. I smiled and walked around my personal property, and I coiled it up. I ran it lightly over his chest, than walked slowly around as if inspecting him, and ran it equally as lightly, sensually even, up and down his back. I tapped the bottom of the coil on his butt, and laughed when he flinched.

   "Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden, hmm?"

   I walked back around the front of him and uncoiled it and wiggled it around, snaking it on the floor around him.

   I smiled, then did several of the loud cracks in the same direction as before, in rapid succession. Then I coiled it up again, and put it under his chin, lifting it up.

   "Yep. Down here? Not at all like up there was. I have the ceiling I need, I have the wider room to work it. I handcuffed you to that pipe? You got to taste a few of the light laying it on strokes. That was nothing. But as you saw, if I start doing more than one? Every one gets a little faster, and a little harder. If I were to do the 24 birthday smacks with this, just the laying on strokes… oh… that would be bad. Very bad. For you, not for me. And that? Would be the light ones. I can do the laying on, much much harder and faster."

   I walked over and whirled it around several times, and got close to him, but not touching him. He tried to back up out of reflex and nothing happened. Hinged handcuffs on the ankles prevented anything but just standing there. The noise was a series of whooshes. Then, I did it again faster. I got a hair closer, loud whooshes now.

   "Well? You want some of Vaquera's… special attention?"

   I snapped on either side of him, several times, back and forth. Loud cracks echoed.

   "Then, you got a few lash strokes. Just a couple. And again, they were as light as possible, to still get the lashing going. If they would have been hard ones? Oh… maybe you think I'm kidding about this. Let me show you something…"

   I walked over, and got several cans out of the bag. Cold drink cans. Unopened ones now, not empties like last time.

   "Up there? I was coming in from the side. Ceiling, remember. Down here… different story. Watch."

   I put two cans up, one on either side of him, a little out from his sides. I went back, and uncoiled and snaked around. Then I used overhand this time, at near full speed. The first can exploded, like it had been shot by a gun. The spray went all over him, and the can exploded in two pieces, all rips and shreds opened up like an explosion in the can. I immediately hit the second can, to the same effect. The spray all over him, the exploded and shredded can, the works. A piece of aluminum tinkled that had separated from one of the two main pieces.

   "As you can see, I can put it exactly where I aim. I can take your nipple off, if I wanted to…"

   I lashed out, and it cracked just in front of his chest.

   "But? I don't want to do that. Which is, of course, quite fortunate for you right now."

   I smiled, and walked over to him. I coiled it up on the way over.

   "Because you were handcuffed to the pole? You missed out on the wraparound stroke display. Perhaps, you think you missed out on something fun. Not getting to taste that stroke. Want to taste it now, little boy? Just ask. Don't be shy."

   "Let's get this thing out now. The whiny shit's all over. Well, for now. In a little bit? Who knows. You can scream all you want down here, little boy. No one can hear you. I have the only key. No one's coming to save you, even if they could hear your screams. But they can't."

   I untied the bandanna gag.

   "Your screams? Will make me wet. When we go back upstairs? I bet I get anything I want, too."

   I retied the bandanna as a now slightly wet blindfold. I raised it so he could see, and I could put it back down to blindfold him anytime I wanted. I went to the bag, and got out a longer piece of rope balled up. I tossed it out, to unwind it. I tied the loose end, to his hinged handcuffed wrists.

   "Lets go… oh, that's right. The ankles…"

   I bent down and unlocked the double lock, then undid one cuff. I then resumed tugging on the rope.

   "Get over here, slut. Don't even think about telling me no again. Or, on second thought… go ahead. Please, tell me no right now. I dare you."

   I got him where I wanted him, and there was a thick metal pipe running overhead. I got the ball of rope on the other end, and tossed it up over and caught it coming back down. I tugged on it, and it dragged him to underneath where it went over the pipe, then it slowly drew his hinged handcuffs up. His wrists and arms naturally went with it. I was near one of the storage cages now, and opened an empty one. With no contents, they were unlocked. I tugged on his rope.

   "Up on your tiptoes, slut."

   He went up on his tiptoes, and I tugged the slack out taut. I wrapped some of the rope around the latch, and it held. I could release it with a few touches, but he couldn't. This would stop what little movement he could achieve. With regular handcuffs top and bottom, I'd have dancing and wriggling. Those hinged ones, though. Hardly any, with no chain to wiggle. Now up on tiptoes and no slack… there would be no dancing. Wiggling would require supporting himself suspended by the hinged handcuffs. Which was why my sweatbands were on his wrists if he tried that.

   I walked towards him, and stalked around him. Caressing him with the coiled up bullwhip.

   "My, my, my… aren't we all nervous now, hmm?"

   I chuckled, and tapped his butt with the coiled up whip.

   "And when I say 'we' are nervous? I mean just you."

   I re-locked the free ankle, adjusted the last click, then double locked it again. I pulled his blindfold down.

   I put two more cans on either side of him, and did the fast demonstration again. Exploding cans, spray, skittering exploded aluminum all shredded.

   "I'm running out of cans, slut. If I were you, I'd start talking."

   "What do you…"

   I started cracking around him several times, very loud.

   "If I have to tell you what to say? Then I guess there's really no point. Pity. I wanted to have a nice little talk with my slut. Now? Guess I'll just beat the shit out of you instead."

   "Wait!"

   I stood there a little bit.

   "I'm waiting…"

   I walked over and coiled up while I went. Touching him with it brought a jump and a little whine.

   "Well? What am I waiting on. This ought to be good…"

   "Please…"

   That was perhaps the whiniest, longest and most drawn out "please" I ever heard before. Begging and pleading all in one long word. It danced, going from syllables to whine and back, rising and falling in whine pitch and volume as it got drawn and danced out.

   "Hmm. Was that begging?"

   He nodded his head yes vigorously. I tapped his backside with the coil. He twitched.

   "Begging? Not bad. You sound, really… scared."

   Yes, yes, yes.

   "Begging? Sure, its cute. But… I can get all the cute begging I want soon. Why would I wait on some begging and pleading. No point. I'm sure, I could get way better begging. And you know how I'll get it, I'm sure…"

   I ran the coil over him, then held it under his chin.

   "You're really scared."

   He nodded vigorously. Yes, yes, yes.

   "That's good."

   I whispered in his ear.

   "You should be… terrified."

   I got a combination of a really drawn out whine mixed with a squeal. All in one, long, pitiful sound.

   "Not bad at all, really. Pretty good, even. But… that just tells me how much better its about to get. I'm starting to think you're just wasting my time. And that? Oh…"

   I ran the coil over him some more.

   "That's a really bad idea. You'll pay dearly, for that. Or… you better start talking. Quick. No more please, no more whiny shit. No more begging. As I said… I'll get so much of that, soon. No, we need to have a real talk. No more fucking around."

   I got the squealing and whining, again all mixed in and forming a long drawn out noise.

   "Cute. But? I can see I'm just wasting my time. We'll just get started. And, as I just said. You'll pay dearly for wasting my time…"

   I snaked out after backing up, and started cracking again around him. Louder and faster.

   "Last chance, slut. Any… last words? Hmm?"

   "Wait!"

   "Hmm. Wait, huh? Okay…"

   I walked up, coiled up, and tapped him a couple times with the coiled up bullwhip. He jumped and squirmed and naturally I got the whiny squeal-y begging, too. Please had turned into wait, and it was painted with the same pitiful, pleading sounds.

   "I'm warning you. And? That's twice I warned you, about wasting my time. This must be like playing poker. The more you please, and beg… now, its wait? All while I keep warning you, not… to waste… my time. I keep telling you, if we don't get somewhere. Real quick? You were just wasting my time. And we'll get started with this little… talk. And once it starts? Well. A poker hand. You? Are raising the pot. You'll pay now, even more dearly for having wasted my time."

   Squealing, mainly.

   "Mm. Delicious. Gonna get so much more of that. I'm gonna drip, how wet I'm gonna get. But… I told you the rules of this little… talk. I warned you. I warned you twice. That? Means you're making me repeat myself. I? Am done repeating myself. From now on? I'll speak once. I kept warning you, this better not be wasting my time. Stalling. And now? Time's about up. You? Raised the pot up. You are now? Just about to pay for it. Very. Very. Dearly. For testing me, ignoring my warnings. For daring me, to repeat myself so many times. Now then. When I walk away from you, this time? The hand is over. Bets were raised… and…"

   I tapped his ass with the coiled up bullwhip several times each ass cheek, a little firmer than the other times. I hissed in his ear.

   "Doesn't look like you're holding any cards."

   I walked around him one more time, running the coil up and down him, all over.

   "You'll lose this hand. Big time. And, this is just the first hand in the game. Poker night. Game could go on? For hours. You? Will lose. Every… single… hand."

   I got in his ear again. I got close, hugging him strung up. I pressed myself to him, and wrapped a jeans leg around him, rubbing that leg up and down his own. My hands running over him. The bullwhip still coiled up. Dragging it almost sensually up and down his back, from his shoulders to his poor little marked up ass cheeks. I could now feel him tense up, twitching as little as he was able to in the position he was in. My one free hand drew my wet lips to his ear, for my hoarse whisper.

   "Wanna bet?"

   I looked down at his interest meter. It twitched. I touched it, and held it. It gave a little throb. I tugged it gently a few times, letting it slide. Interest was at an all time high, when I gave the last slow pull off. Sliding my hand down it and ending.

   "Rules of the game. Every player, should know what's in the pot. That's just me and you playing. I know what's in it. You should know, too. So? I'll tell you. You raised the bet. Twice. Now, its looking like you raised it more, a third, and quite final I might add… time. Here's what's in the middle of our table. Birthday swats? No, these are birthday cracks, not love pats. 24 of them. Now, I have three strokes I can use. I'm thinking eight of each, makes 24. That's eight times, laying it on. In a row, mind you. Which means that each one gets faster and harder, until the eighth one. Then? Eight of the wraparounds. You missed those, last time. Then… eight lash cracks."

   I got sniffling.

   "Aw. That's so cute… now, like I said. When I walk away this time? This little talk is getting started. That? Is how I'm going to open up our little… talk. And then, we'll get started having the rest of the conversation. Unless…"

   "Unless what? Please, wait. I'm begging you… please. I, I'll talk about anything. Anything you want to talk about. Anything."

   "Hmm. Give me a second to think about that…"

   I tapped him one final time with the coiled up threat in my hand, and walked over slowly to get another cold drink can. I walked back over, tapping the top. I opened it near his blindfolded face, and started sipping it. I made the "mm" sound, then the protracted "ah", when I was done.

   "I'm listening. Go on…"

   He went on babbling and gushing. He begged me to talk, instead of whipping him. How he'd talk about absolutely anything at all, whatever it was I wanted to talk about. How sorry he was, for ignoring my warnings and making me repeat myself. How he'd never make me repeat myself again. I only had to speak once, how well he'd listen. He begged me, that he didn't mean to dare me, he pleaded with me to believe he wasn't testing me. He went on explain how much he loved me, how gorgeous he thought I was. How much he loved my legs. He begged and pleaded, desperately, to not whip him and if we could just please talk instead, about anything I wanted to.

   When he started repeating himself, I finally put my finger on his lips, and shushed him.

   "Well. Maybe we can try talking, I guess. After all, I can always go right back to… the other kind of little talk I had planned."

   "Thank you, so much. I really, really, appreciate it. I promise you, I do."

   "Hmm. Yeah, I bet you do…"

   "I do. I really mean it, I promise."

   "Well, if we're gonna try talking. And I mean try it out, mind you. You were screaming and crying with a gag for a while. Your mouth is probably dry. Hmm?"

   "Yes."

   "Want a drink?"

   "Please…"

   "Okay. Here…"

   I tipped it up for him, until he made a "mm" noise. I drank some more, then continued it and went back and forth between us, until we were done. I kissed him, then licked his lips to clean it up. He whispered after his kisses and licks to me.

   "Thank you."

   "You're welcome. Now, let me get rid of this can."

   I tossed the can away to roll and come to a rest. Then I uncoiled and snaked out, and lashed into the can, naturally tearing it into shreds and sending it skittering. He jumped at this additional demonstration. I ran the coiled up heavy plaited leather threat up and down him.

   "The can? Just took your place. The can, can only handle one. You can take more than one, before you come apart. I just wonder how many."

   I got a little whine.

   "Listen carefully. We're just trying this talking thing. I just said something. I got a whine. You talk with words. Whining? I can get all I want, the other way. Now. I've just warned you about something. Don't expect me to repeat myself. Talk."

   "Thank you. For… using it on the can, instead of me. I don't know how many I can take, before I… come apart. Its not something I wanna find out. I won't make you repeat yourself. I promise."

   "Much better. Now, we're starting to talk. As opposed to begging. Or whining. I can get that, as I said… another way. And it will be much better to get it that way. Now, talking? Really talking. I can't get that once you start screaming and crying. Or gagged. That's just noise."

   "I wanna talk, I really do. I promise."

   "And that's good. But… what will we be talking about. Hmm?"

   "Anything you want. Anything. I'll talk about anything."

   "Okay. Someone has to lead the conversation. That will be me. You, will follow. But, you'll participate in this conversation. Or… we can have the other kind of talk. Rather one sided."

   I rubbed the coil of heavy oiled leather with lead shot plaited in for weight and balance on him gently.

   "Rules. Being told what we'll be talking about next? Will cost you. The price, is one stroke. Then? I'll tell you what we'll talk about. That, will be how I lead this conversation. You? Will then participate in the conversation. Actively. I'm not just telling you what to say, I'm not just getting one syllable answers. Is this in any way… unclear?"

   I tapped his ass with the coiled bullwhip to emphasize.

   "Because if it's not crystal clear, I can explain it much better, if I feel the need to. You were just asked a question. Don't expect me to have to tell you to answer questions. I will not repeat that. The next time you don't answer a question? You'll pay for it. With another stroke. Do I again make myself clear?"

   "I understand. I understand both. Telling me what we talk about will get me a… stroke. If I don't answer you, when you speak, I get another stroke every time. I promise, I'll participate. In the conversation. You don't have to talk the other way. Please. I don't wanna make you have to repeat yourself. I'll listen, I'll be good. I promise."

   "Okay. You won't be making me repeat myself though. I speak once. If I have to speak again? Well… it will be… the other way. Understood?"

   "I understand. I'll listen. I promise."

   "Well. Let's begin this little talk. Shall we?"

   I went and got the bottle of baby oil out of my bag. I squirted some here and there on him, and rubbed it all in. I got both arms and both legs, then the torso front and back. Ass cheeks too. Just for fun, I gave a little oiling to his interest meter, too. Just a couple fun strokes, then left it alone. The purpose, was safety. You don't oil up an imminent whip victim, willing or unwilling, for any sexy purpose. Dry skin can rip or tear somewhat easily. Oiling the skin? Prevents that. The oil is no harm to the leather, but the skin is the primary objective. This allows heavier whip strokes, with much less chance of scarring or tearing skin open. Safety first.

   I backed off to one side. Nearer to the storage cages. I wanted to use the front of him. He had gotten the other really light strokes for his little taste test he wanted on his back, and a couple light lashes on the tops of the backs of his thighs. I don't want to risk marring the ink on his back with a scar. I really should stay off of his ass cheeks. So, the front.

   I whirled around several times, to get the noise I wanted, before laying it across his chest. He cried out, naturally. I came back and ran my fingers over the mark. A nice red line across the middle of his chest. The thin lash end went slightly around to the rib cage. The red line went from thicker to thinner, and already had a nice, raised bump feel to it.

   "That, if you were curious? Laying it on. Light one."

   I coiled up and went back to standing near him, touching him with the coil.

   "Let's start this conversation with what a slut is. Mainly, the way we mean it. The word has different meanings."

   "I know. I'm a slut."

   "Word gets used different ways. When you hear someone say, oh that girl over there? She's a slut. They mean it derogatory, usually. A guy could use it… only half bad. That one there? Don't let the designer duds throw you. That's no nice girl, that one's a slut. Half good too. Hey, you're looking for action, that's the one to pick. Then, it could be used the nice way. Your girlfriend, surprises you with a blowjob. You'll say something like, oh, you little slut you. She smiles, its a compliment. So, the word slut… really covers some ground."

   I tapped an ass cheek with the coiled up whip, firmer than most of the other touches with it that way.

   "Participate, slut."

   "What kind of… slut am I. Or, I mean… how do you use it, for me."

   "Good question. I mean it the good way, in one sense. I mean, come on. Our third date, out in the middle of nowhere. For our first night together? You got your hands tied, and your naked little ass swatted with my favorite little whip. Once we broke the ice? You asked for more, every time. You got whipped until you cried. I told you I wanted to make you do what I wanted? You loved it. So yeah. You? I looked down at you, all tied up, begging to get whipped more, begging me to use you any way I wanted. And if that's not a case of a nice little… aw, you little slut, you… then I don't know what is."

   "Then you… named me. Your slut."

   "I sure did. Its no secret. You were making the rounds of all the girls on the teams, trying to date us. You wanted one of us to pick you. Sports groupie, by the very definition of it. Functionally no different, whatsoever, than the girls that go around to the boys. Trying to get picked to be the next little sports groupie. Those girls? Are little sluts. All eager to please. They'll do anything, and everyone knows it. You… are just a guy version of that, to a girl player instead of the more usual reverse situation. What's the big fucking mystery here?"

   "So… you mean it… not as good that way."

   "Oh. This is a two way conversation. I guess I apologize for that. When you were too eager to please me, you'll let me do anything to you, and you love it. You know you do. Yeah, oh look at you, you little slut you. I mean it affectionate that way. When I talk about the girls being slutty groupies for the guys? That's where I'm sorry. I don't compare you to that, not that way."

   "What's the difference then."

   "The difference? I told you from the first night we slept together. I want you for a steady boyfriend. Period. I don't share. You have to realize by now, you're no… flavor of the week. Flavor of the month. Not some… this semester's groupie. You're permanent, is my plan for us. Do you wanna talk about… recently?"

   "Sure."

   "I know what I am. Long before I met you, trust me. We talked about it. And you? You know what you are. We share that. Its a compulsion. I get naughty images, of me smacking a boy's naked butt. You, get the same naughty images. Except, a girl is smacking your bare butt. We're just flip sides of the same coin. We both know it. Again, where's the big fucking secret. Okay, I gave… basically birthday swats, three different times before you. You? Got birthday swats once. We meet? Look what happens. We're both eager to fulfill some naughty fantasy. Shall I continue? I think I know where you want this to go…"

   "Please."

   "So yeah. After we were both really… eager that first time. Both of us, mind you. Yeah, I started, what, studying it. More I did, the more you loved it. You started asking for stuff. I'm reading about that stuff. Here we are. I'm dominant sexually. No big surprise there, right? You're sexually submissive. Again, no big surprise, I don't think. Once you get beyond the little birthday swats once a year… anyone that likes getting their naked ass smacked and asks for it, and the person doing it, too… they usually like… some kind of ongoing naughty game. They both do. We both do. Its traditional to pick a theme to the game. The submissive? Yeah, they get some name. I told you. Slave, doggy, or… in your case? The slut. The fact that you started out as… aw, my little groupie… then, for the naughty game, well… doesn't it make sense?"

   "So you mean it… all good. All the way around."

   "Definitely. Now. You liked little scenarios. You liked a theme. I read that if they liked getting their little butt smacked, try a little shame or humiliation out. You asked for more, you loved it. You're nothing if not all eager. You always asked for more. You asked, no. Begged? Yeah, begged me. To be more… in charge, that way. So, I want my little groupie, my little slut? To do what I want. You thought it would be hot for me to make you, so. Here we are. You like it, right?"

   "I love it."

   "I know. I'm making you. We both know, that in our theme to our naughty game? What most people would call a mistress? I'm just the mommy, same thing. Mommy and her misbehaving little boy, that needs corrected and made to listen. You asked, no… begged. To be forced to do anything I wanted. I said what, you said that was for me to pick. Now, if part of the… game, or theme? Has become that I'm going to make my little groupie, my little slut… do what we both know goes on with the other, real sluts? Oh well. That's too bad. Now. I'm going to go on. If you don't mind…"

   "Please."

   "We both like it. Hell, we both love it. You said you wanted to make it a permanent thing. I liked the idea. You had every chance to back out. You had weeks to decide if it was really looking okay. Once again? Here we are. You said it was way hotter, if there was no backing out. That I could just make you…"

   I rubbed the coiled up bullwhip over the mark on his chest.

   "And… I happen to be able to make you. So? I'm doing it. Have we covered everything you could possibly want to talk about, in this part of the conversation? Or is there anything else concerning the pet name I have for you… slut."

   "It's covered."

   "Great. Moving right along then. Rules. I'll speak once, I will not repeat myself. I had to tell you to participate, didn't I. To get you talking back, once I started this whole slut conversation. I will now give my slut a nice little stroke for that. Rules. Also? I will then be starting the next topic of conversation. That's another stroke for the slut. So, don't be amazed that my personal slut is about to get two nice strokes in a row."

   I backed off, and whirled around some more. Making the noises as part of the show, before leaning forwards, like a fencer poking forwards. Instead of laying it on, I wrapped around the middle of his chest. Fairly hard, but nothing outstanding. I got a full wrap and a little more. He cried out and then sniffles. With a few small tears.

   "That? Was the wraparound, that you missed last time. Just so you know."

   I started snapping near him, several times. Teasing him with the loud cracks going off on one side then the other or in front of him. This way he wouldn't know exactly when it was coming. I hit him just above the middle of the front of his chest. Sightly off to one side, in the chest muscle. I got an explosion of tears and sobbing. It wasn't the lightest one possible. It was a tad more, but again nothing ridiculous.

   "And that? Was a lash. Ready for the next topic of conversation, my little slut?"

   He shook his head up and down, trying not to cry too much, yes yes yes.

   I lashed out quickly, and put another one quite near that first one. A second rough teardrop shaped welt outlined in dark red. It somewhat reminded me of once having seen a coin, that had been double struck. A second image just off the first.

   "Rules, you little slut. That one? Was for nodding your head, instead of speaking. I speak once."

   The tears continued and slowed, and I got sniffling and some sobbing.

   "Now then. One more time. Is my personal slut ready for the next topic of conversation to be given?"

   "Yes, please."

   "There we go. You? Will speak when spoken to. Next up. What started on the kitchen table, then went on with me bending you over the couch. You know what I'm talking about. Don't be coy. We're going to now talk about, mommy banging your little ass. Understand?"

   "Yes."

   He nodded, but still said the word "yes". Tears were slowing, and the sobs had subsided into the occasional sniffles.

   "I will stop only long enough, for you to get yourself together, so you can talk. But don't try my patience, don't test me. I'm not waiting around all night in between questions and answers. Did I make myself clear just now?"

   "Yes…"

   "I thought so. Do you need a minute to get those sniffles under control? Maybe a little drink would help."

   "Yes."

   I backed up, and gave him a lay it on stroke. A little harder than the first one I gave him. He squealed and jiggled and started with more sniffles and some mild sobbing. Then I coiled back up and walked back and touched his ass firmly by bumping the coiled bullwhip into his ass cheek that was nearest to me.

   "That one? Was for not being clear. Yes, you need a minute to get the sniffles under control. Or, yes you want a drink. You want more extra ones? Keep shit like that up. I'll give you as many as you want, slut. You can test me right now all your little heart desires to. Specify."

   "Yes, both."

   He had sobbed out the "yes both". I sighed dramatically, and stalked right back over, and gave him a slightly better wraparound than the previous wrap had been. I had a hair more distance back, to control the over a full wrap the first had ended up. I got a nice, full, single wrap that ended across his midsection, near the first one. Explosion of tears and sniffles. I walked back and lightly scraped the coiled up whip down his side, from his shoulder to past his hip and on down to his thigh.

   "And that wraparound, was for not being polite and having manners. What are you even thinking, slut."

   "I'm sorry… please."

   I backed up and planted a nice, quick lash near the first two. A third one, just off from the other two that overlapped like a double struck coin. The third teardrop touched one of the double struck ones.

   "That one, was for not doing it over again, correctly. Sorry? Is what you'll be when we're done. If we ever get done. I can see it's going to be a long night. The please was fine, but when you get corrected? You do it over again, and you do it correctly. Now then. Again!"

   There was an increase in the stream of tears, and the sniffles now had little sobs mixed in with them here and there.

   "Yes, I would like a drink, please. And yes, if I don't get in trouble for it, I would please like to… time to stop for you."

   "Much better. Mommy will get you a drink."

   I opened another can and took a drink. Then held it up for him. He sobbed as he drank, so I kissed and licked his lips afterwards, like before.

   "And yes. You can take a little bit to stop that whiny shit. We're having a little talk. I'm not spending all night, trying to decipher words, out of all the… secret crying code. Don't try to take forever, though."

   He sobbed out a whiny little "thank you".

   "Not a problem, when you ask nice."

   He was still sniffling and sobbing.

   "How… long. I don't want to get in trouble."

   "Well, you're already in trouble. How long, until you get in more of it? Well. Like I said. Don't try to test my patience. No set time. Get the whiny shit under control, and do it quick. I guess, if you feel another stroke? There you go, it'll mean mommy got tired of waiting."

   I gave him another drink, and another kiss and lick. Then I drank some, while I waited on him. He tried to stop the intermittent sobbing. The more he tried to stop it completely, trying to please me… the more the next bit of sobbing built up and came out.

   "If you want a polite suggestion. Or not."

   "Yes, please."

   "You're trying to hold your breath, and that's just going to make it happen more. If you try to breathe deep, and slow, and regular? You'll get your shit together quicker. When you start crying, its quick shallow breathing. Deeper slower breathing? Will get you there quicker. And I won't get bored waiting, and you get another one for taking all night. Another polite suggestion, is that you really want to try to avoid all the extra cracks. Because… you really don't want to fall into a cycle of… well? I highly doubt you want mommy to give you something to cry for, with this scary thing. Do you?"

   A little sobbing gush.

   "No. Please. Thank you for… both suggestions. Thank you, thank you. Please don't… do that…"

   "I can see, this is going to be a long night down here."

   "I'm trying to… hurry."

   "Yeah. If you wait too long? Not only are you going to get a wake up crack, we're gonna have another conversation starting crack. So hurry it up."

   "Yes. Okay. I'm trying. I Really am. Please don't."

   "Not up to me. Its up to you. Get it done. If I had to guess? I get done with this drink, I'll start getting bored waiting. You can take that however you want."

   "Thank you…"

   "You're welcome. Deep breathing. And quit talking, it makes it worse."

   I sipped my drink slowly. Waiting. The sobbing dissipated into littler ones that were controllable in and of themselves, and the sniffles were reasonable.

   "I think… I'm…"

   "You must have a crystal ball, slut. I was just starting to get bored. Now then. If you don't remember the new topic, I can always give you another crack to remind you. I know what it is. I wanna see if you remember. Tell mommy what we're talking about now. And don't sugarcoat it, you tell it like it is. Go."

   "Talk about you… fucking me in my… ass."

   "That's right. Specifically, mommy banging you in your little ass. First off, you might be curious how it came about. Would you like to know? I'm not shy with you. Ask."

   "Will you please tell me, why you started wanting, to… bang me in my… little ass."

   "Very good, slut. We're not going to call it something else. You told me, how hot it would be, if I made you do something you might not want to do. Remember that?"

   "Yes, I remember."

   "Good. I did it. I didn't think I'd enjoy it as much as I did, but… I liked it. We'll be doing it again, as you saw when I bent your naked little ass handcuffed over the couch, and plowed your ass again. You took it much better the second time, by the way. Not bad for a new slut."

   "Thank you."

   "Oh, you're very welcome. And tell me. How ashamed were you, that first time on the table like that, hmm? Come on. Humiliating, wasn't it. Tell the truth."

   "It was. Very much."

   "Well. Good. It was meant to be. You said you wanted forced to do something you might not want to do. I said that was rape. You said, please rape me. So? I did. Now then, I wasn't kidding. I go to these… mixers. I overhear these drunken conversations the boys have. I've heard all about this, more than once. The little groupie girls. The guy that's done it to his, tells the newer guy to try it. There's always the first time you gotta make them do it. You know. Force them. Then? Later on, it becomes regular. They always come back for more. Aren't you my little groupie? My personal slut. Yes or no."

   "Yes. I'm your slut."

   "You are. Now let's get real here. What else am I going to make you do, so I can force you. Rape you, basically. Make you take a blowjob? Please. What were my other options. You tell me. Can you think of one? Tell me."

   "I can't… think of one."

   "And, there you go. Wanna hear about the one I overheard, the one time?"

   "Yes. Please tell me."

   "Sure thing. So, I'm sitting on a couch. There's another couch, back to back with mine. Old, long couches. Party. Football and girl's soccer team. So anyways, I have one or two mixed drinks, then I switch to all mixer. I'm on one end of my long couch, then the other couch, back to back of mine? Two guys are on it, other end. I'm hearing this drunk stage whisper conversation. Its another one of these, how to bang the little whore in the ass stories. Now… the younger one asks the older one, about it. He's heard this around, he's nervous to… just do it, you know? So, older guy wants to put his nerves to rest. Go right ahead, its fine. We all did it. Its fun! Let me take a drink…"

   I took a sip.

   "Okay. So, the older guy pretty much starts bragging about his best one. Big party at their townhouse. Now, the boys can be pigs. Apparently, there was some thing at this place, where, its a thing to bang your girl over the kitchen table. Big party going on. Lots of people outside, living room, in and out. People going from the basement, through the kitchen, to the living room. Or upstairs to the bedrooms. So… you bend your girl over the kitchen table, drunk. And people know what's going on, a few people walk through. You get the idea, right?"

   "Yes. I can… picture it going on."

   "Yeah. We all hear about this shit, all the time. So, a senior football player, older guy, had a new freshman, well… groupie. She's nervous about the whole, kitchen table thing. They make it sound like its a rite of passage. Hey, at least they're not fucking sheep, right? So… she's nervous about doing this. The older girls. What, experienced groupies? Are teasing her. Go on, quit being a prude. Have a drink and loosen up, its fun! The guys are joking about him, breaking in his new freshman girl. And by breaking her in? I think we both realize, he's known for getting some park it in the rear action. He's obviously got his technique all down pat and everything… I'm taking a sip…"

   "So, you can see where this drunken story, advice? Is heading now. I'm sitting there, horrified I'm overhearing this, by the way. Little freshman girl, is putting drinks down, to get her nerve up, to go do the kitchen table thing. The guys are doing shots, and egging him on, to break in the new girl. Apparently, a dare, a bet, whatever. He brags how he grabbed her by the hand, and all but drags her in the kitchen, and bends her over the back end of the kitchen table. He's drunk, he decides its time to kill two birds with one stone. Kitchen table for the new one? Check. Loosen her ass up for the first time, so it can get regular? Check that off at the same time. You can see where this is going."

   I took another sip.

   "Ah. So, he's bragging how he's raping his new groupie, in the ass her first time ever, holding her down complaining over the kitchen table. Party going on, people walk through now and again. The works. How the whole living room, got to hear her squealing and crying, as he put it, banging her… and I quote what I heard here, exactly mind you… banging her in her tight little virgin ass. When he takes her back out to the living room, everyone's laughing, guys are giving him the high five. She's getting teased by the older girls. Now she's in the kitchen club. The butt club. Whatever."

   I had another drink.

   "Mm. So… when you came to me, and were basically asking to be raped. How hot it would be, for me to force you to do… something. There you go. I mean, what else was I gonna make you do? How many times have you told me, that when I tease you, shame you about something, that you love it. Now then. It took a while for me to plan your… rape, right? What did I do. You already on our first night, had asked if you could have some rear action. I knew you wanted it. I wanted to be nice and do something for you. Also, this comes up. I gave it to you, so I knew about it. And by the third time, yeah, I asked for it rougher. I wanted to see what all the girls that giggle about it, were into."

   Another sip.

   "So. It was more than fair. You wanted it for me. I wanted to give it to you. I did. I was already gonna rape you by this point, but I'm in the planning stages. I wanted it rough, so I could make sure it was okay. Then… the more I make you ashamed when I do things to you, the more you like it, so… there you go. That's how it happened. And yeah. Its already a part of one of our games we play, that you really are my slut. My groupie. That I do what I want with you anyways. I mean, how much more fair could it even be? My ass went first. My ass went rough first. All on a volunteer basis, mind you. You? Admitted, that you liked it. Holding me down, making me squeal. And how hot was it for you, be truthful. When I lifted my ass up for you and told you to give it to me rougher. You tell me. Was that hot, and did you like it? Tell me."

   "It… was very hot. I… liked it."

   "Uh huh. And is my ass not now on the menu? Its scheduled right in. Hurry has her monthly bill? You get to park it in her rear end. I'm in one of my moods for the occasional rough ride? Again, there you go. Now then… you. Its our fun game, that you're my little groupie. You asked to be raped anyways. You like it rough, anything I give you. Now? Yeah… I liked it. Huh. Now? Your ass is on mommy's menu. And I ask you… what's the fucking problem with that, huh? Not trying to be an asshole about it. Oops. Didn't mean that pun, but… there it is. Go on. No threat of any kind, what's the problem. You, can say anything."

   "I don't have any problem with it."

   I ran the coiled up bullwhip up and down his lower back and cheeks, suggestively.

   "Now. To finish this part of our little talk off. Did you, or did you not… admit you liked it, over the kitchen table, when I was done. Let me hear it again."

   "I… admit I liked it."

   I backed off and gave him a lay it on stroke, on his tummy. A nice one, arguably his hardest lay it on stroke yet. I got a nice squealing whine, and sniffles.

   "You will call it, what it is. You admit you liked… what. Be exact. Again."

   "I admit I liked it… when mommy banged me… hard. In my… ass. All… helpless on mommy's… kitchen table."

   He still had the sniffles, and little sobs were starting to well up, but they stayed mostly down.

   "That's right. Now. Do you need another harder stroke, to admit how you got hard, and had no problem getting off, with me all the way in? Admit that."

   He started tearing up. He had been blushing all through this talk, but it got bad now.

   "I admit. It was… hot. When mommy raped me on her table. I got hard. Mommy… made me come. With it all the way in me."

   "Good, little boy. Its the truth, and you know it. Now. Tell me what that makes you. Go on."

   "A slut."

   "That's right. You, are now not just my slut anymore. You, are my complete slut. Mommy has broken you in. You will now put out like that. And just like anything else we do, this will be no different. I'm in charge of bedtime activities. Always have been. This? No different.

   He still sniffled a bit.

   "I raped you. Hard. Right in your ass. Tied down to the kitchen table. Not only did you get hard for it? You came in like three seconds. Simple facts. Now, only a total, and I mean complete slut? Gets excited and has an easy orgasm from being raped. You? Are my slut. And just like those other sluts, it will become a regular thing now. For me. If the other little groupie sluts do it? You will too. Where do you think I learned that you can pee on your slut, huh? Another drunken conversation I overheard, at those stupid parties I don't even like to go to."

   He still had a little sob here and there, and the occasional sniffles.

   "Now then. Thank me, for making you admit to yourself. That you're a little slut, and you enjoy it."

   "Mm. Thank you. For making me admit it. To myself. That… I'm a little slut. I like it."

   "There. Was that so hard?"

   "No. It wasn't hard."

   "All right. You want another drink?"

   "Yes. Please."

   I held it up, then naturally kissed and licked his lips to clean him up.

   "We'll come back to this topic, a little later. When we're closer to being done. You can count on it. Now then…"

   I backed off, snaked around some, then whirled several times, and went into a decent wraparound. Hardest wrap yet, and just a hair shy of a complete and perfect one. A redder line, nice raised welt. Part of it passed over another one, and you could see where the red lines crossed, that there was a tiny bit more raised welt. A teeny red X there, where red lines intersected. Sobbing and sniffling, little stream of tears. I slowly coiled back up.

   "New topic. Us. This. How its going to go. Where we're at. All of that. Ready? Ask me nice, to tell you about us."

   "Please tell me. All about us."

   "Thought you'd never ask, slut. Here's how it is. I love you. Plain and simple. Mommy is in love with her little slut. No other way to put it. I've heard it said, that if its true love, love at first sight… you know by your third date, that this is the guy you're gonna marry. I never believed that, I pride myself on being more of a realist, but… there it is. Surprised the hell out of me. Let me go on. There's more."

   "A long time ago? I saw you in the hallways, and I sat by you in an early class we had. Not sure you'd remember. I used to sit behind you and one row over, so I could watch you easily, through every class. I've always liked looking at you. A little fascinated, from day one. That? Never once went away. I got teased by the other girls, because they knew who you were. Computer boy. Quiet, polite. All that. Yeah. I got teased for liking you."

   "I'm… sorry you got teased."

   "Don't be. I'm sure some guy somewhere along the line, might give you the raspberries for me being an amazon or whatever. Who cares. We're adults. I don't… rate… the guys around me based on what other girls like or don't like. That's all mine. You sure seem like you're the same way."

   "I am. I promise, I am."

   "I know. Now, I went up and down in fascination, seeing you around. Never could shake it, though. See, I don't sit with the girls, doing each other's nails… and rate the guys we see. Him? He's hot! You like him? Ew. Fuck that shit. Me? I'm a psych major. I took an inventory, in some class, what I wanted and needed in a guy. Lots of things are higher or lower, on my list, than other girls. Go figure. I took the day's work home, and worked on it. Some things surprised me, the more I thought about them. Hmm. I came up, with my… criteria, for my perfect man, just for me."

   I paused and took a drink.

   "Now, that's where you come into the picture, little boy. A lot of things, I'm not like other girls. You know most of those things now. Some things, even some surprising ones. Yeah. I'm a girl, and I'm like a lot of other girls those few ways. I told you, I'm ashamed to admit it, but… your thing, where you avoided fights and physical confrontations? Was a turn off. I'm ashamed, but there it is. When I found out your… secret. And I admit, yeah, I was always asking around about you. I like to say researching you, but, you could call it stalking you, whatever. I wanted to about cry. The one thing I didn't like, I loved everything else? Was ironically, the one thing I was dead wrong about. But how would I know. You had your secret."

   Another sip.

   "You see, that list. That… inventory assessment. What's nicknamed the macho items, or… some call it the bad boy items, and by some? I naturally mean mostly girls, go figure. Things like physical aggressiveness. Avoiding or not avoiding physical and non physical conflicts. Worrying or caring about what you would call pecking order. Professionally? We call it… interpersonal social stratification within the social structure. Physical or verbal. Willing engagement in the male non lethal combat ritual. I mean, you gotta just love how professionals name things, right? I had no idea, and when I learned it about you, I was floored. You… it crossed three or four items off my list, and you suddenly became… well, for lack of a better phrase? The perfect man for my list."

   Another drink.

   "Then? I already knew you were a cheerleader. Going from sports girl to sports girl, trying like hell. We all knew. All the girls? Put the bad boy shit through them. They like assholes and foul mouthed jerks. The couple that don't? Have a steady boyfriend. A couple are bi or lesbians. Wasn't hard to see what you liked, either. Tall, strong girl. Athlete. But still feminine looking. Hello, Hurricane stalker plan. Easy one, too. None of the other sports girls were going to give you the time of day. Why would they. Either they're into bad boys and their complete bullshit, or… they're like many girls are, and if the girls go "ew"? No way."

   "All I had to do? Keep my mouth shut. Put myself near you. Smile. Wait. You were making the rounds, and I was on that list. When you finally talked to me? I knew. Here we are. My turn. Give you small talk. Mention how single I am. How am I ever going to get someone to meet me at party X? Gosh golly gee. Fly's in the web. Mouse is nibbling the cheese. All I had to do, was smile at small talk at the party. Let you ask me out again. The fish? Will put itself on the hook for you, all you have to do, is not jerk the hook out of its mouth."

   "Then? We both know the rest. Party meet. You asked me out for coffee. Its your standard line on the others, by the way. Not like I didn't know it was coming. Only one thing on that list, I had no way to assess. Sexual compatibility. I know what I am. I like to get on top, and order the guy what to do next. I like guys in that sense, that do what they're told, and like it. You took care of that for me, while I was going about it the same way. Constant stream of little jokes, little innuendos, that only a person like me or you would even pick up on and get. Third date? Well, you see how that turned out, how I was prepared just in case you were more or less on that… compulsion scale."

   "No, you went from possibly perfect guy for me? Within two dates, to… again for lack of a better word. Perfect guy for me. Sexual compatibility. I came prepared to date three, ready for anything from… friendly birthday swats? To more, lots more. But, mommy tossed rope and a riding crop in her trunk, just in case. Wow. How long did it take to go from the usual jokes, to talking about it openly? To… 1,2 then big 3. Before the night ended? You were tied up and getting whipped. Loving it, and begging me for more. Here we are, not quite two months later. Told you that night, we're boyfriend and girlfriend now. Get used to it. Its how it is now."

   I flipped the lash end of the whip on him a little, my version of twirling his hair.

   "Yeah. I tied you up, and whipped you. Then told you, you were mine now. You got rock hard and dripping wet. You loved it."

   "Now. That's the back story, on my end. How us came to happen. Now. About the other part of, what has become… us. What we're doing right here, right now. You. I have you strung up like some kinky Christmas ornament. And you simply love it. Look how hard you are. When I so much as take my belt off, getting undressed for bed? You blush like a stop sign. I peed on you once in the shower? I open my eyes in the shower after a workout, there you are. Begging for it again. Anything I do to you? You like it, and then you come back asking for more. Want me to prove it? Ask me to prove it. Right here, right now."

   "Please… prove that you can do anything to me. That I… like it."

   "Open your mouth. I'm going to spit in it. Now, under no threat of this whip, or anything else. If you don't want me to? There will be no punishment of any kind."

   "Anything you want…"

   And he opened his little. I sort of spit in it. He thanked me. I doggy licked his face and kissed him.

   "That isn't… I don't know."

   How much… spit do we get in each other's mouth, kissing and licking. Probably more than that, by the end of a night. So what.

   "I'll prove it again. On the farm? We have… animal tasers. Can I use one on you, when I remember to grab mine?"

   "Yeah. If you want to, I guess so."

   "See? We both have the same compulsion. Fantasy generator, everyone has one. Ideas and fantasies pop into your head. Was I going to be happy, getting to give birthday love swats? Hell yeah. Now, did I ever once have a naughty fantasy, where I could tie a guy up, and whip him for real, until he cried? Sure. And you. You had trouble getting your second time for birthday love swats, but… you had a fantasy, of some girl you otherwise thought was pretty. She's tying you up, and whipping you, right? Tell me I'm wrong."

   "I admit I did."

   "See? That's how we got right here, right now. Now. Let's take it further. We both have basically more or less, the same general ultimate fantasy. Just opposite ones. They bookend each other's… dream fuck. Hell, I have to be careful what I make a joke about, I see online to you. You might bug me to do it. Please tell me, there's limits to… all this."

   "Limits to everything, I think."

   "Good. Please tell me, you wouldn't ever want me to poop on you."

   "Am… I allowed to tell you… no."

   "Hmm. In this context? Yes."

   "Then no."

   "Thank god. I'm joking, but, I peed on you in the shower, then next thing you know, there you are."

   "I thought it was… funny."

   "I bet if I took… oh, I don't know. A shot glass of my pee, and put it in a gallon of fruit punch. You'd drink it, wouldn't you?"

   "At that ratio? Probably."

   "See? I have to be careful."

   "Don't be. Anything you think you want."

   I put the bullwhip all coiled up, under his chin and lifted it up.

   "Good answer, slut. It better stay that way, too. And the first time it doesn't? We're coming down here for another little… talk. Moving right along…"

   I backed off, and after a couple loud warning cracks on either side of him, planted a fairly decent lash stroke, on his tummy. It made the dark red teardrop, not quite perfectly around his navel. He squealed and whined, and some tears came out, and a little sob came.

   My demeanor had imperceptibly softened over the course of time, talking about… us. I made up for that quick.

   "New subject, slut. Sentimental mommy? All gone. You've been asking for a while. Don't ask, just make me. Its hot. I wonder how hot it would make me, to get actually punished. Why does you owning me, have to stop at just a joke. I waited. I looked into it online. Hell, I tried to talk you out of it. I wanted to give you a way out, if it turned out to not be your thing. No, you kept bugging me. I figured, why not? Its for naughty time anyways, just another game. Fine. So? Here we are. You even asked me, to not let you out of it. To punish you more, for trying. I finally agreed. And again? Here… we… fucking… are."

   "No way out now, you little slut. Hope you thought your little… fantasy through. Because now? The gate just swung shut. You? Actually trapped. I asked you if you really wanted to submit to me. Completely. You knew this was coming, and that it was for your birthday naughty fun. You begged me. Well? Here we are. Your future? You're fucking looking at it. Um, you have a blindfold on, so you don't see the bullwhip coming, but… you know exactly what I mean. You can still hear the future for you. Me. Period. There's nothing else for you. Everything else? Comes second, to whatever I decide. Thank me."

   "Thank you. Very much. I love you."

   "You better. I gave this some thought. I, am on a scholarship. I basically get paid, oh… what's tuition and fees and full room and board plan here run? Christ. Close to average salary in the country, I think. One of the top schools. I'm on a scholarship. I basically, get paid to play. You? Are trying to submit, to me. Key word. Trying. I told you and I meant it. You are… trying out for the team. You're already my boyfriend, for good. You know that's a done deal, but… this? You're trying out for the position, of my personal… slut."

   "I'm going to see how this goes. After a while, if we're getting somewhere? I'll let you know, that you're invited to preseason camp. That's not making the team, mind you. That just means you're officially being looked at harder. Anyone can come to tryouts. That's you. You? Are trying to get some kind of… slut, sex, scholarship. I honestly didn't think this was for me. But, when I was raping you, and humiliating you, on the kitchen table? I looked down, at my crying little slut. Trying to please my dirty fantasy. I guess there might be something there for me. So? I'll try it out."

   "You, are in tryouts. I'll let you know, if you get invited to preseason camp. After that, if. You get invited to practice with the team. Trial basis. Then? You can get picked up, make the team. Fuck it. I'm going to have fun, doing every, any, last perverted thing I ever once thought of or heard of to you. And the goddamn internet? Christ. Too many perverted things to try on you. You better hope and pray, I don't develop any truly sick, twisted preferences. Because if I do? I'll just bring you down here, like I'm making a sandwich… and whip the skin right off your little ass, until you not only agree to do it? But thank me for doing it, and then you'll beg me for it."

   "I sure hope you're that dirty of a little slut. Because if you're not?"

   I lifted the coiled up heavily oiled leather threat, under his chin yet again, firmly. I hissed in his ear.

   "You soon will be."

   "I just had a joke run through my mind. You know the one. She's so hot, I'd drink her bathwater? Next bath we take, guess what? I'm just curious. I don't even want it, does nothing for me, but… I'm curious. How much of a complete, dirty slut you really are. I'm going to let you watch mommy pee in the bathtub water. Then? I'm going to watch you drink it. If you don't? Well… that will be quite temporary. You will. Its just a matter of how sore of an ass you feel like having, when you do it."

   "Now. In other news. Whether I like this and keep it up. Or you even make it. Whatever. Its not like you're going anywhere anyways. I mean, once I let you down from hanging here, at some point I have to let you down. Eventually. There will be the door. Or, you can leave when I'm at practice or class some day. Go ahead if you want. Nothing stopping you. You won't be hurt for it. You won't be coming back, I don't play the break up back together, break up back together bullshit. Honestly, I don't know why people do that shit, or put up with it. Why does anyone do all the retarded shit they do, who knows. I just know I don't. But… you're free to leave anytime you want. I just know you won't. This? Is permanent."

   "I'm serious. You lusted after a girl that looks like I look, on the TV screens watching women's sports, since you were little. You finally landed one, and she's as into you, as you are fascinated with her. Girls like me? We don't exactly grow on trees, you know. Ask any female athletics coach. We're hard to find at this level of play. I mean, you might get another? Good luck."

   "Then there's our educational goals. You don't just want, you need, you crave a smart girl like me. One that wants degrees like I do. Again, we don't grow on trees. And even then, there's something else, isn't there. Has to be one that doesn't laugh at you, if you want naughty fun. No, for a wife? Not trying to sound conceited, but… be honest. How hard would all that be, to replace. Especially one that plays the exact naughty games you always fantasized about, and fantasizes herself about performing those naughty deeds. You see, most girls? Almost all of them, actually. Like whatever the guy likes, to get in with the guy they like. I don't. She'll, again most likely, just be doing it for a while. About as long as her cooking class lasts, or her aerobics thing. Couple years? Tops."

   "So. When I say, that if you want to see your future? Its me. Period. When we go to grad school? We'll be moving in together. That's another reason I kinda like this deal. I'm going to train you, to be what I like. Any way I want. For when we're alone, I mean. And when we're done with school finally? I'll tell you, when its time to get married. There's a load off your mind. I'll handle that. I'll let you know when to pencil that one in. Oh yeah. Almost forgot. There's one more thing."

   "Anything."

   "Well. I'm going to mark you. Permanently. As mine. As my personal property. What do you think of that one?"

   "Am I in trouble for asking how?"

   "I'm going to take you to my farm, in calf season? I'm going to tie your hands to your ankles, just like we do to the calves? And I'm going to make a fire, and I'm going to brand you, wherever I feel like it, with a red hot branding iron. I'll get one made just for the occasion. Companies make them for farms. What do you think of that?"

   "Um… can I be… drunk for that? Please."

   "Christ, you're thinking about it. I was fucking joking. But seriously though? I'm going to make you get a tattoo. That says I own you. I'm going to put my mark on you, that I own your ass. What do you think of that?"

   "What's the… ink look like. Where does it go, it…"

   "What's my nickname?"

   "Hurry. Unless you have another one I don't know about that you like…"

   "No, slut. What's my full nickname. Who am I?"

   "Oh. You're… well… The Hurricane."

   "Yep. Guess where it goes?"

   "My… oh. My ass."

   "Are you being a smart ass with me? Because I swear to god, I'll give you ten hard lash strokes, right the fuck now. I mean hard ones. Not these little friendly love pats you've been getting, either. Serious strokes. You've never felt a hard one. Convince me. Right now, that was a serious answer. Now!"

   "I'm… you whip my ass. You like it. You… just… banged me. There. I was being serious, I thought it made perfect sense… please, I wasn't…"

   "Knock the whiny shit off. Immediately. Or I'll give you those ten hard lash strokes. Yeah, that makes sense. You were telling the truth."

   "I'm… sorry."

   I walked over, and snapped out three hard lashes in a row, fast, like I was hitting cans for a contest or a demonstration. One hit his left chest muscle, the other just below it and half on it, and the third I aimed lower. Above the navel, and just to the side. I got instant crying from the first one, that stroke had been fairly hard. Not the kind that could rip skin, but the kind that leave more than a simple red welt. The tears and instant quick sob from the first one, were nothing. When I go quick on multiple targets, because we all competed in every demonstration as part of the overall show, the second came quick. No sooner than the tears and sob came out, the second got a cry out and the just as quick third that followed it got me an actual scream. The tears and sobbing were during and after the scream.

   The screaming and crying, came with a gush of… whiny shit, really. Which I had already told him to knock off, that I had just gave him three fairly hard lashes for in the first place. Whatever, I gave him three more, just a hair faster and harder. I was poised to give a couple more, and I yelled at him.

   "Just shut up! That's all you had to do, was shut the fuck up! The hell do you think, knock the whiny shit off means, anyways! You stupid slut! It sure doesn't mean do the whiny I'm sorry, doing it more! Just shut your dirty little twat lick-er! Or do you want some more!"

   He was screaming and crying now, and I'm pretty sure the "no…" was the beginnings of a technically allowable "no please", but… shut up means shut up. You would think it definitely means shut the fuck up right now, coming from the person with a bullwhip in their hand, using it, and is obviously a professional with it to boot. What the hell.

   "You better just scream and cry right now, slut. Not a word. I just heard the word no come out of your mouth. That word isn't in your vocabulary right now. Allow me to correct that for you…"

   I was about to lash four more to make the original ten, and pulled it. So I snapped several times, really loud, right in front of him and right around him. He most likely felt wind as well as heard the little gunshots going off around him like firecrackers. Instead I whirled several times, so he could hear the whoosh, like swishing a switch for effect. I did a fairly hard wraparound, on his upper thighs. When you wrap a full wrap or less, you pull back, and it unwinds and you get to retract, and go into the next whoosh or whooshes, and on to the next one. I gave him a total of four, fairly hard wraparounds, on his upper thighs. The screaming and bawling, was nothing short of exquisite. I walked right over to him, and smacked him across the face, fairly hard. I left a little bit of a hand print.

   "That was ten! You were gonna get ten, just for whining and sorriness, right after I said knock the whiny shit off! Then I distinctly heard the word no, come out of your dirty little slut mouth! I'm trying to be nice! You got your ten, for whining after I said no more whining! You basically just got away with a free no! So scream and cry all you want, slut! But if another word comes out of your dirty little mouth? I'll start giving you something to scream for, with what I'm holding in my hand! Do I make myself abundantly clear now! Don't you dare answer that, or you'll start getting something to really scream for!"

   I finished the last drink in my can, and tossed it. I shredded it, mainly for his benefit and watched him jump. I got myself another cold can out, and opened it and took a drink. I just stood there in front of him, took the occasional drink from my cold can, and simply watched and listened to him cry and sob for a while.

   No more nice mommy.

   After a little while, the commotion was down to a dull roar. Just crying and sobbing, and of course the little intermittent streams of tears. I decided to stay with the hard mommy for now.

   "When you feel the whip again, harder than any one you felt so far? You'll know, that I got bored standing here, listening to the whiny shit. Don't even say a word. Because right now? One sorry comes out of your dirty little mouth, just one? It means you must want mommy to show you, what sorry really means. Better knock this whiny shit off. Pretty quick, too. So? You better get done with your little pity party, I ain't buying it. You've been warned? And I speak once."

   A little while later, I did it again.

   "I'm running out of this drink, and my patience is running thin too, mister. You better try the deep breathing again. I can't be any nicer right now. Fresh out of nice. Nice? Doesn't seem to work tonight. You? Are about this close right now, to seeing what the complete opposite of nice really is. Make it snappy."

   A few minutes later, things were reasonable.

   "Now then. You will tell me, what you just got corrected for. Why? So I can get the idea, that you have some idea what's going on. Don't make me repeat myself, now is not the time, in case you couldn't guess that already. Speak."

   "Say… saying no."

   I walked over and after a few whirls, gave him a laying one on stroke, front of the thighs. Actually not real hard, to tell the truth. I got a little screech, and other than tears and a mild sobbing spell or two, not much more.

   "You did something before the no. Tell me what that was, too. Again!"

   "I did… didn't shut up, when mommy told me to."

   He got another fairly mild laying one on stroke, about the same place. I got another few sobs and another longer, and quite whinier, screech.

   "And before that? Put all of them together. Again!"

   "No… no whining. And, I whined…"

   "Close enough. I told you, and I think we're speaking the same language, last time I checked, anyways… I told you, no more whiny shit. You? Immediately came out with another… some kind of whiny sorry shit. That's sass, that's disobedience. So? You got three lashes. Then, you come out with more whiny shit, when you just got three for whiny shit. So three more again. Then, you lost your mind, and I heard you actually tell me the word no. I heard it, don't you dare deny it. You call me a liar, and I'll take some skin off your ass. You know I can do it. Dare me."

   "Hmm. Here's what I'm going to do. I can't let a no slide. That's just bad for business. I let stuff slide, and now I see where it got me. You're in the middle of getting a lecture, with a bullwhip. And you? Do the exact opposite of what I just said. No whiny shit, and you say whiny shit. Then you say it again, right after you get strokes for that. Which is one thing. But, telling me no? Uh uh. So I tell you what. We're going to go right back where we were, and keep going. But, when we're done? Then, I'll show you what telling me no, gets you. Its not going to be pretty, either."

   "Now then. I know where we were. You tell me. Unless you want another conversation starter across your skin. Speak!"

   "You were… tattoo."

   "Correct. As I was explaining. You're going to get a tattoo. My mark. I'm going to mark you, as my personal property. We went over this, and my nickname is The Hurricane. Now, ask me what it will look like."

   "Please, tell me what it looks like."

   "You know how on the weather map, there's that kind of cloud, saw blade looking thing? Pretty much something like that. A fucking hurricane symbol. Its perfect. I already decided. Now, in addition to that? Have to figure out some way to work my team number into it. You? Are my personal property. Have been, since the third date, and I tied you up and whipped your naked little ass until you bawled. I want my mark on you. I want you numbered. So everyone can see, that you belong to me. Now. Ask me where its going on you. That? Is what started this whole… what we had. So, don't say your ass again."

   "Please tell me, where it goes."

   "Actually, I gave it some thought. On the bottom middle of your back? You have a lot of water. It goes perfect there. Body of water? Hurricane. Perfect, really. We'll figure out how to work my team number in somehow. Now, there's another reason I'm putting it right there, too. Ask."

   "Please tell me, the other reason."

   "Well. In addition to its just the perfect spot. Water, hurricane. Its also the perfect spot, for another great reason. Think about it. You? Are also my own personal slut. And a slut, is a tramp. That's the same spot, where a tramp stamp goes. Its too perfect. Its also a cute joke. I plan on lifting up your shirt, and pointing it out. There. That's me, that's my team number. This? Is mine. There's my permanent mark. You? Will be permanently numbered by me. Now… I know, I know. You never get your girlfriend's name tattooed, or your boyfriend's name. What if you break up, you're fucked. I thought of that. A hurricane, on the body of water? No one would know. That's why we figure out how to… get the team number in somehow… slick. We figure that out? We got it licked. Got a problem with that, slut?"

   "N… don… don't make me say it. Please don't."

   "Oh! Well. Scared to say the no word, huh? Hmm. You're allowed to say no, when its the good answer. You're certainly not allowed to say it, when you're saying no to me. So go on, and say it. Mommy allows."

   "No. I don't have a problem with it."

   "Wow. I was expecting some static. I was actually prepared to strike a bargain, of at what point it was okay. My little slut? Really is a good name for you. You'll do anything I want, and you're easy. Wow. I might see about branding you now. Just kidding. I think, anyways. Tattoo first, that's definitely."

   My compulsion strikes without warning. An image flashed through my mind. I had him calf roped. Wrists tied tight to his ankles. I had the little fire going, out in the sticks. I know companies that will make an actual branding iron, any shape. I could definitely order one with a saw blade outline. Hurricane. Numbers in the middle, they do numbers and letters. The mental image, Jesus. I had him naked, calf roped for this. I'm threatening him with the red hot iron. I'm kneeling on him, to hold him for the couple seconds pressing. I can hear him screaming in his gag and bandanna holding it in tight.

   Good lord. When I was really young, and I'd get a naughty image of smacking a boys naked butt, for instance. I was young, I'd go… what the hell is wrong with me. Am I nuts? I got older, got to understand the basic idea what was going on. Okay, whew. I'm not nuts. Then just now, that. A psychology major now, I know what compulsions are. I don't tell anyone that I have a special, unique understanding of them, but… I clearly do. Thank god the compulsion images are not… fucking dead roadkill, for instance. There are actually people with that compulsion driven mental image, out there walking among us. I mean, wow. Then again, nice to know they're out there, because it makes me feel somewhat normal, if only by comparison.

   "Well, little boy? You get a compliment. For agreeing to the tattoo thing so quick. I'm impressed."

   "Thank you for… complimenting me."

   "You? Are welcome. I gotta tell you, I was pissed about the whole no thing. I still am. And the no thing came out of the tattoo conversation. How you managed to fish a compliment out of that mess? You're either very good? Or very lucky. Quit while you're ahead, slut."

   "So, it cancels out the no thing, maybe…"

   I smacked the taste right out of his mouth for that one, and I could see a hand print for this one.

   "What! Do you seriously think, that you're going to disobey me! I tell you, that you're getting a severe punishment for misbehaving later! Then you actually think, you're going to… bargain, or… weasel out of it? No!"

   I pasted another one on him again, in pretty much the same spot.

   "No! Let me explain this to you, because you're obviously not getting it! Mommy is in charge! Not the little slut! If I decide to let you off on a severe punishment you have coming? And trust me! That is one! Telling me no! I'll be the one who decides if you get off easy or not! Not you! Goddamn it, I was actually thinking of it, too! I even just told you! Quit while you're ahead, slut! That's what I meant! All you had to do? Shut the fuck up! And it probably would have been lifted! Now? Oh, no… no no no…"

   Bad mommy's back. I stood there a little, waiting. I decided. I ran my hand on some of the baby oil he was slathered in. Easy, I just picked a spot that hadn't been whipped yet. I got behind him, and let him feel me up against him. I grabbed his collar and pulled him back into me, so I could hiss in his ear, all pissed. I pulled his interest meter a couple times, slow, while hissing in his ear.

   "Yeah. You're a real piece of work, aren't you little boy. So, the little slut thinks he can work mommy, huh. Oh, you like how that feels, stroking your cock with mommy's oiled up hand, huh? Well listen up. You better fucking pray, that you don't come right now. And do you know why? You, my little slut, are about to really get it. Oh yeah. I'm about to really give it to your poor, little, naked, helpless, oiled up ass."

   I readjusted my hold on his collar and yanked him in again, rougher.

   "And oh boy, do I mean really give it to you good, too. You just wait. Go ahead, come. You're little ass is about to sing. Its going to take a while. And if it happens without a hard dick? Its going to hurt about three times as bad, not that it'll be fun even with a hard on. So go ahead and come, I dare you, slut. Squirt off for mommy. You're going to pay for that shit you just tried to pull. Right, fucking, now. Check this out…"

   He was puckering and starting to whine. I'm sure for a second there, he thought he was about to get bull-whipped a good bit more. But I had other plans. I finally took my hand off his cock, with one last diabolically slow pull off of my warm, oil slicked hand. I kept his collar tight back into me though.

   "You are so lucky you didn't come. Now, you can't see, but you can feel, just fine. Don't say a word right now. Do you feel that? Yeah, you do. You know what's just about to happen soon, I'm sure of it."

   I was letting him feel, in extreme slow motion mind you, me undoing my big, thick, leather cowgirl belt. You needed almost time lapse photography to see it if you had it recorded. Which of course, I did. I was recording this whole scenario for this or another naughty movie night.

   "Uh huh. You're making mommy's belt come off. And we both know what happens, when mommy's belt comes off, don't we? Yeah, we do. It means, that some naughty little boy is about to get something to really cry for. We're not talking about a normal belt over mommy's knee. Oh no way, slut. We're talking about a much longer, much harder kind of belt on your ass. You're strung up completely helpless, like a naughty little slut should be. I don't have to hold your neck down, I don't have to keep your legs still. I just have to give it to you good. And trust me, that's just what I'm going to do. You? Are going to get something to really cry for. Then? You're going to keep getting something to cry for. And you know the best part? This is all just for trying to manipulate me. Just so you know? I was so happy about the tattoo thing, I really was going to let you go on the no punishment. But now? This, is for trying to manipulate your way out of it. Now, you're still getting the no punishment. Later. I won't forget."

   I yanked back the collar yet again.

   "Yeah. Belt's undone, slut. Its just hanging there. I'll pull it off in a little bit. Bet you can't wait. You manipulative little slut. You were already out of the no punishment. It was going to be a surprise. I even told you, to quit while you were ahead, but no, not you. Now? Instead of being out of the no punishment? You're going to get a far worse one. For trying to manipulate mommy? Mommy is about to manipulate your ass cheeks. Bad. And you're still getting the no punishment, too. Later. You wait on it, and anticipate it. Manipulative little sluts? Get double trouble. We'll see if you ever try to pull shit like this again. And if you think this is bad? And it will be, trust me, I'm going to make sure of that, naughty little slut… the no punishment? Is now going to be even worse than this. Real bang up job there, slut. Yeah… feel the belt sliding out? Here it comes…"

   I grabbed the bullwhip, and selected a nice thick part of it. Using it as a gag, I wrapped it tight around his mouth and held it behind his head nice and snug. I got the belt doubled over in my free hand, and started letting fly. I worked the bullwhip gag handle around to the side, and held it there instead, giving me the perfect path to lay my belt on his ass. There was no counting, this was just until I felt a lesson had been learned. I took my sweet old time, all fast and hard belt smacks. No breaks until a safety breathing break was absolutely necessary, because he was looking faint from not catching his breath, screaming too long.

   He got a constant stream of hissed in the ear lectures and taunts. I constantly reminded him. Not only was this unnecessary and he had stupidly brought it on himself for no reason, given that he was out of the woodshed and being let go later anyways. But that now the no punishment was reinstated, and getting worse when he finally got that one, too.

   I honestly didn't keep track. Certainly not how many belt swats fell on his ass cheeks. I didn't even realize the time passing. You could have told me he got 15 minutes or 45 inutes, and I couldn't countermand your proclamation of it. When I was "done", was the best part.

   I told him we were done with mommy's belt. He was sobbing and crying and sniffling something fierce, and I was waiting for it to subside. When it did, I started to question him.

   "So. Manipulative little slut. How's that ass doing? Don't answer me, I know. I'm the one who did it to you. Now then. Do you think you learned your lesson, about trying to manipulate mommy's punishment? Hmm? Tell the truth."

   He whined out that he was sorry, he had learned his lesson, and would never, ever try such a thing again. Etc etc. After a while of this gushing and apologizing, I shushed him. He doesn't know what's happening around him, he's blindfolded. I grabbed the collar exactly as I had done preparing for the belt. I got my bullwhip gag handle all ready and grabbed up firm, and hissed in his ear again.

   "Oh. You didn't learn your lesson yet. You just think you did. I wanted you to think it was over. How's it feel to be the one manipulated now, huh? What's that…"

   I was rubbing the paddle he was so frightened of earlier, on his ass cheeks suggestively. I cooed and laughed in his ear, at the whining and squealing I got when he realized what was being rubbed on his ass. We then repeated the whole procedure of the belt punishment over again, except with the paddle. The only difference being, the paddle gets there quicker than the belt does. It was less time being paddled before safety breathing breaks happened, and the requisite longer lectures to fill up the longer breaks before he had breathing back under control once again. Other than the differing duty cycle difference between the two punishments? They were otherwise equal. I felt strange. I was an ass smacking machine. I was getting some kind of light workout from all this. I worked up a sweat.

   I felt strangely powerful. The way I marveled at how powerful my hand felt, when I used it to bring crying and tears, because I had prepared beforehand with the long thin switch. It wasn't just my hand now, it was me. I felt powerful. It reminded me of the rush of dominating in a soccer game, knowing you were just beating up on the losing team, and couldn't be stopped. I always did get off on smacking a boy's naked ass, but this was different. It wasn't just the smacking like normal that was doing it, it was the feeling of having complete power over the other human being. That other being was my lover though. But I didn't have to feel bad, because this setup and goings on was exactly what he had asked for. If I didn't get off on punishing him and doing it, I wouldn't be pleasing him the way I wanted to. Like I said, a good feeling, but strange all around. As if I somehow should feel bad, and at the same time knew I shouldn't.

   The entire thing suddenly became, somewhat surreal. Ethereal in some way. Is this really me? The relative few times before this, I had smacked a boy's naked butt were few. Towel snapping boy, my 14 year old girlhood's first make out boyfriend. Naked wet towel snaps became some sort of ritual before every make out session I grew to crave in that dirty, filthy cement storage add on added as an obvious afterthought to the rear of the bare cement block wall main structure of the pool building. Looking back, how much craving for that dirty cement rectangle's interior was the making out with my make out crush, and how much was the sudden access to wet towel snapping a naked boy's butt, willingly accepted to get his first make out girlfriend, so the other boys weren't "ahead" of him any longer.

   Was he like me? Maybe the naked butt wet towel snapping was part of his interest as well. I would never know. I didn't even have the ability to separate my make out desire, from my possible towel snapping desire. Did he grow up to look back and realize that now he had a desire to get the smacks? Had I done that to him unknowingly?

   Then the slightly odd dissociated feeling passed. I didn't exactly snap back into myself, but I no longer felt as if I was somehow watching myself go through these actions, and experience these strange alien feelings. I was getting off on this. I had absolutely no desire whatsoever to pee on someone else. Never once, and I still didn't really. Yet somehow, when the right person who would take such done to them, and would come back and ask for it again, simply happened along? There I was. Smiling and giving a little squirt of pee in the shower. Ha, ha. Take that. With no thought given to it, whether it was right or not. No more thought than one might assign to squirting someone with a squirt gun at the pool in the summer. Just something to do.

   I had less than zero desire to pee in the bathtub and ask and then make if necessary, my lover to drink a glass of it. None. Less than desire, an anti-desire to such an act. Yet, here I was. Planning it, just because I could. Was this the weird power that a bully felt, and idly planned his next humiliation of some hapless fellow classmate at grade school? No, it wasn't. I was sure of that. The kid in grade school certainly didn't suggest and help plan the next attack. My willing victim did just that. My lord, I had sort of spit in his mouth, just to show I could to make a point in conversation. More of a noise and a sudden rush of air, but still. This was me doing this. And even stranger than me enjoying it somehow, was knowing I was most assuredly being encouraged and egged on to do it.

   If I didn't invent humiliations and punishments, I was failing to please my lover. If I suddenly one day turned vanilla on him, he would ask me what was wrong. Concerned, that I no longer loved him as much or held as much sexual appetite for him. I could hear such a conversation now in my head. Honey, what's wrong? What did I do to you to deserve this? Why won't you tie me up and whip my naked ass until I bawl anymore? Can I fix this? I thought you loved me.

   I was doing things to him, that if I engineered to perform the same actions on an unwilling participant, I would spend the next half of my life in jail. Sexual assault performed not by the day, but sometimes by the hour. Violent rape. Premeditated, so as to deliberately increase the humiliation of the victim. Assault, sexual assault, sexual battery, literal torture. Domestic abuse didn't even begin to cover it. I had gone from cute birthday swats, when I found them to be enjoyed… to a complete sadistic pervert. Practically overnight. The more I made him physically suffer and tormented him, the harder he screamed and cried, the wetter my pussy got. I daily dreamed up and premeditated and carefully planned then executed ever more elaborate means of sexual torture. I was a sadistic serial killer that wasn't, and only because I didn't kill.

   Yet I was none of these horrible things, that I honestly was, simply because the "victim" was willing, and that was putting it mildly. That was the surrealistic dissociated feeling's genesis. I was a rapist, the only difference was that the victim wanted it. I was a twisted serial killer that tortured the victim. The only difference was that there was no body left at the end. I recycled the same victim over and over. I was a rapist that didn't rape, I was a sadistic killer that didn't kill.

   As I had recently gone down through a list of reasons why he could never replace me, confident not cocky, but still? How could I ever replace him now. I had the strangest sexual appetites and desires, that could never be filled by anything or anyone even remotely normal now. Not even a garden variety fellow pervert would ever do. This compulsion we fed off of in each other, was a drug. Another boyfriend ever? Right. I could just imagine that one. What kind of prude doesn't let his girl pee on him in the shower. What kind of senseless jerk won't dress and undress me, to OCD level specifications. What kind of abject sissy, has a problem with being tortured and made to scream and cry for however long as it takes before I get bored with the torture. Oh, I'd be real popular on the dating scene in any small town, I'm just sure of it. I'd land one boyfriend, one time. It would last a week, more like a day if even that long. I'd never get another.

   No. The lover I had strung up like a kinky Christmas ornament in front of me? This was the future. My only future possible now. Not only was his rare combinations of attributes uniquely tailored to my individual self? His sexual compatibility in itself was relatively non-replaceable. Might as well start naming the children now, I suppose. Hi, this is my daughter, Whip. And this is my son, Switch. Oh no, that one isn't my husband. The other one, the one with the prominent handcuff bruises on his wrists, the bullwhip scars on his chest? That's him.

   When the daughter was getting to dating age, I can imagine the birds and the bees talk. Honey, remember to wait until your third date, before you begin the sadistic sexual torture, dear. There needs to be a feeling out period that you have a true willing victim. CYS will be setting up a satellite office in my basement to keep tabs on the strange goings on at my house. The cops would get used to it all though. As long as we didn't drink and drive, they won't give a shit. 911, there's a murder going on next door? We'll send a SWAT team right over. Oh, what's the address again? Yeah… that one. Ma'am? That's just their normal Friday night. I suggest earplugs if you don't move out. What? No, don't go over and peek in the window to make sure everything's okay over there. You'll need therapy.

   So all these bizarre thoughts and jokes pass through my head, because I'm bored sitting here. I had dragged the chair over to sit down and enjoy a cold drink can still left, and watch and wait while he got himself under some semblance of control. I had been idly admiring my craft work's results.

   Mommy's belt coming off had taken on even more powerful of a meaning than it already bore. I filed away in my memory banks, that I could smile and use that in the future now. I would smile at him luridly, and begin to suggestively unbuckle my thick leather belt, ever so slowly, and he would gulp and get nervous. Wondering what he had done. I would point at the ground in front of my feet, and get instant groveling and little kisses that turned me on so much now. I would get begging and pleading, for mommy to please not to use her belt on him after a switch had been already used on his well marked up ass. I would tell him to beg like the naughty little slut he was. Surely I would suggest something humiliating and degrading for him to beg me to do. Just to avoid mommy's belt. Then I would surely carry out the humiliating and degrading act, and enjoy it. The mere thought of it, made me wetter.

   The next time I threatened him with basement and chair, there would be a much more palpable fear. Adding the paddling in after mommy's belt, had produced the beginnings of actual fear. The threat of future "little talks" in the basement being conducted with an hour long fast and hard paddling, after mommy's belt had already come off as was already par for the course, had given him serious pause. Now, the additional attentions of mommy's belt, followed by the surprise longer paddling? Was moving several steps closer to actual fear of punishment.

   "Well, well, well. Someone, is finally getting their shit together. I noticed, that you're finally taking my polite suggestions. The deep breathing, for instance. Its working. Now then. You're starting to get the picture, aren't you? Don't answer that. I'm not done. You see, you got this sorry thing. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I keep showing you, no. That? Is simply saying sorry. What you are now? That, is what sorry actually is. We're just getting started, is what you need to grasp. By the time I'm done with this? When I give you a look, up in the bedroom, and mommy starts unbuckling her belt? You'll actually be afraid of it. I'm going to get tears, when you see my belt getting unbuckled. Don't speak. I'm not done."

   "I noticed the paddle worked well. New toy of mine. And how did you enjoy the second half of your punishment for trying to manipulate me, and get out of being punished. That second paddling worked wonders on getting your attention, I think. Once again? We're not done. Just getting started there, too. You just wait until the next time you need brought down here for one of these polite little talks. I wasn't kidding, the next over the knee spanking you get? That paddle is going to get used more like you just got it, than when you first got down here. Stay quiet."

   "Now, you asked for this. I tried to talk you out of it. You wanted real punishment. I asked you what real punishment was. If you want more swats, just tell me. No, you said. It would be even hotter, if you were actually afraid to get punished. You're not there yet, but we're a couple steps in the right direction. You wanted to go from the naughty game? And make it real. Well, here we are."

   "None of what just went on? Needed to be. At all. We… had a system going. You knew you were getting the basement and the chair. You got it. That part was over and done with. We were having a nice little talk with the bullwhip when this happened. And even that was scheduled to be reasonable. Be polite. I talk, you listen. Listen, and do exactly what I say. When I say stop something, you stop it. You don't go and do it again. Defy me. Was supposed to just be a crack here, a crack there. Reasonable. Keep your attention. Explain things. But oh no, you had to go and make me do that. The extra belt, and the extra paddle. Hope you enjoyed it. I'll do it again, at the drop of a hat from now on. Maybe you understand that now. Maybe not. We'll see. I told you, and you already knew it… that I get wet when I smack your ass, and you squeal. I told you, maybe this isn't the brightest idea. But, you wanted it. If you want me to get wetter? Just pull some shit like that again."

   "Now. Back at the ranch. Before you insisted on what just happened? We had just finished up the tattoo talk. We were just about to move on to the next topic. So? Let's get right to that."

   I walked over to what had become my normal spot, for delivering my bullwhip strokes from. To deliver them to hit the front of him. The fresh undamaged meat, so to speak. I gave him a lay it on stroke, that was pretty decent in intensity. I got the nice, well defined instant welt that I was getting used to seeing. No extra wrap of the lash end to the around the corner rib cage. Contained to the front. I aimed and hit above the belly, but below the chest. He stifled a squeal and made a noise; I was rewarded for my effort with some mild sobbing that subsided rather quickly, all things considered.

   "New topic, for our little talk. We're going to go over how your next rape by mommy will go. I remember going over the basics during your first paddle smacks over my knee. We'll go over it again. Are you paying attention? Or do I need to grab your attention, in another way. Maybe, mommy needs to unbuckle her belt, to give you the right idea. Your choice, slut."

   "I don't need the belt…"

   "Oh. We're starting to get somewhere finally. Now. You? Are just like the little slut in the story I told you. Like all dirty little sluts, you need forced the first time. You like to pretend you don't love it. It makes you all hot and bothered to whine and cry and pretend you're not a dirty, little, slut. Funny thing is, we proved it over mommy's table, didn't we? That you loved every minute of it. I even have a video, that proves it."

   "Now. The third time is the charm, slut. I expect you to beg me to fuck you like I mean it. And I do mean, that you ask it just like that. Repeat it. Now."

   "Please… fuck me like you mean it."

   "Very good. When I tell you its time? You'll beg me like that. I'll have you help me put it on. You? Are going to lube me up. I already taught you the position I want you in. On the wet kitchen floor earlier. I allow you to ask me to go slow, I allow you to beg not for me to hurt you too bad. Not that I guarantee it will do you any good, but I like hearing it. I'm telling you right now, so don't act all surprised when I start doing it. I'm not making love to your ass like the first time. I'm going to fuck you like I mean it."

   "You? Are going to learn how to get fucked like a dirty little slut takes it. Mommy is going to really give it to you good. I promise you that much. I'm not playing around. I'm probably? Going to just grab your hips, and shove it right in. All the way, all at once. And then? You, are going to get fucked nice and hard. I expect crying and whining and begging, but… if you scream and carry on, like you did the first time? Or try to tell me no, try to get away? I promise you, you'll regret it. Mommy will bring you down here? And do more than just take her belt off. Believe it. Do not test me. This, is the only warning you're going to get."

   "Now. Are you curious what we're going to do now?"

   "Yes."

   "Mommy needs fucked. I intend to lay on my back, and have my needs attended to. We might start with the little kisses I like so much. But seriously, I'm as wet as a leaky faucet, because beating a little slut's ass? Turns me the fuck on. You? Are going to lick my twat like you're trying to take the pink paint off. I expect to get tongue-fucked in my ass, while you're at it. When you're done? I'm going to lay there, and like I said, you're going to attend to my needs. I expect a twat concussion, and if I don't walk funny afterwards? You'll hear about it. So, can you lick and fuck, like a real slut needs to be able to do? Or am I just wasting my time putting you through tryouts. Licking and fucking your mommy is very important, and I expect you to take it very seriously. Now. If you end up being a decent little slut, I intend to reward you. If you want any of your… special needs taken care of? That, is the way to go about it."

   I stood there and waited a little while, looking at… hmm. Throughout the whole "little talk", and how I do love those old timers and their little euphemisms, it's easy to forget what I have here, when you take everything else away. To see what's left. My boyfriend, mister math and computer science calls such reasoning with funny names. Like, isolation by subtraction, subtractive isolation. Its apparently a concept in mathematics. You're trying to see one thing by itself, where you can work with it or… whatever, not my field. With a long equation, it can be difficult. You want to isolate the part that you want to work with.

   He showed me to illustrate his point. If many girls would find bedroom talk like this silly, I found it simply fascinating.        

   Perhaps the fact that I'm recovering from a mild to moderate twat concussion, and my little pussy is all but stinging from the constant tingling of a tongue being used on it. Made to squeal and squirm from application of said tongue upon my pussy's most delicate part. Then I offer my wrists passed down under my tented knees and legs. The wrists get firmly grasped, and the tongue then gets overused and practically punishes my poor little pussy. I'm held there like that, and I end up begging and pleading but I'm still grasped and my poor little clit gets licked, over and over, until I'm all but screaming and crying. Begging, tearing up. Panting and dizzy from all the labored breathing and squealing. I get a break with my wrists still grasped, then when I'm sure I'll fall asleep and drift off, it starts again. When I'm finally "released", my eyes are half closed slits of carnal lust. I'm tired and exhausted, but I still climb on top and do a slow ride, laying on him and kissing him when I'm too exhausted to support myself upright. Still able to roll my hips and take teasing breaks, until I fall asleep like that.

   So. When you wake up from such a nap? Pretty much anything that comes out of his mouth can seem quite fascinating. I got As and Bs in all the science and math classes in high school, along with all the "smart" kids bound for college. Math was not my strong suit, and it required a lot of work to get those Bs. A taste of Calculus my last year, taught me I could do this but I was never going to discover a new branch of mathematics like Newton. B, C, B, C… sweating and praying on top of extra work had me tipping and teetering. Would my final grade be a B? Or the dreaded C. I squeaked into a B minus, and learned my lesson with higher math. I was fixing to get into a fight with a girl bigger than me, and she knew how to hit like a boy too.

   When I hear other girls describe while smiling, because they are in afterglow hearing their guy describe… whatever advanced concept? I'm smiling in the same afterglow, but… I can follow the plot line. He said to just watch. I didn't need to know the mechanics of how to correctly manipulate this big equation, it was enough to know it could be done. I isolated variables in Algebra classes, then used it routinely all through Trig and into Physics and Calculus. These were even stranger manipulations, but okay. He's… isolating a piece of an equation he needs for something else.

   When he had it isolated properly, it really was a lot easier to see it. What it did. He was excited his "smart" girlfriend recognized Boyle's Gas Law in equation form. God, how could anyone who didn't flunk out of Chem I and Chem II and Physics I and Physics II, ever forget it?

   Boyle's simple equation, relating Volume, Temperature, and Pressure of a gas… was simply being tortured. Volume was equal to? A very long set of multiple equations, another page of them. Volume was the same, and Pressure had two pages of sets of equations it was set equal to.

   Then he showed me. Look at the original complete equation. A page full of Egyptian hieroglyphics. Now look at the subtractively isolated variable… volume was no V, but, it was a much more reasonable equation. I didn't have the techniques and experience to perform these manipulations, but I could follow along. I marveled at the ending. Egyptian hieroglyphics, boiled down to a much more concise and understandable and workable… thing.

   Why would he do this in his spare time? Aha. He wanted to manipulate gas pressure. Raise and lower it, to produce desired temperatures, on demand. An electronics circuit board he designed and soldered together, proved the concept worked. He called it his "proof of concept". In the end, when he got there? Several electronics boards he made, were going to each control a different gas. Manipulating the temperatures and pressures back and forth, fast and accurate. Then another circuit board would open and close valves when pressure and temperature sensors said the brief time was right. A cold gas and a very hot one, were going to be passed just at the right speed, down into a chamber where thick epoxy liquids were needing just the right thing at just the right time.

   I asked him how the one gas was going to get cold. There would be a refrigerator? No, and he smiled. He was going to put the cold gas, under pressure. Leave it overnight, for the tank to cool off back down to room temperature. To prepare a "run". Apparently, this was how any refrigerator, freezer, or air conditioner worked. He showed me, with simple numbers for the example. You put the gas under pressure, the temperature gets quite hot. But, you let it sit and cool off all night? When you released it, its temperature dropped the same amount. Boyle's gas laws were simple Physics. If he wanted it a hair warmer, a slight pressure would bring it back up again.

   It would, if it worked like he envisioned in the end? Have a single computer, controlling it all. You could click a mouse, and things would start, and get done. Faster than any humans could ever work valves and watch gauges. New and highly desirable special epoxies could be created, with unique properties for industrial uses. The said epoxies known to exist and be possible, just impossible to make at any reasonable cost.

   I saw it all, in a flash. I didn't know how he did these things, but I could follow the description. He was spending a couple years as a "hobby" on this. His "striking point" was coming. The third version of little chips that were an entire computer on a tiny chip? Were going to have just the power now, to handle more. While these Egyptian hieroglyphics couldn't be handled by a tiny single chip computer? They could or should, just handle the boiled down version. They could handle their part of the hieroglyphics. He was calculating exactly how many instructions each equation required for one calculation. He knew how many instructions per second the tiny chip computers could perform. He could just make it.

   Several, each handling their own parts, would be instructed by, and reporting back to… his laptop. His computer program would monitor and control everything. Some tech could click a mouse, and make what was formerly impossible to make. Some engineer could specify a weird epoxy with a weird use, and get some at a reasonable cost to let him play.

   My god, and I was fucking this guy. I pointed at the carpet, and he kissed the tops of my feet. I gave him "the look" as I slowly started to take my leather belt off to get undressed, and watched him blush like a teenager getting to see his first raised T shirt and he was allowed to look.

   He said he was preparing, all to take a chance a couple years hence. When he would be in graduate school. Now was the time to get all this drudge work done, so when the time came and the third version of little computer chips might be able to just handle their loads? He'd be ready to concentrate on trying to get little machined metal boxes with pistons compressing and pulling vacuum, and have the time to concentrate on the nuts and bolts.

   If it didn't all work in the end, or just got close? He would still have something valuable, and wanted to shop it around to see who was interested. He wanted to impress the right person, and get noticed. So he could get hired somewhere to do "important" work, not just glorified busy work.

   By god, he wasn't interested in tossing a drunk football player around, he had more important fish to fry than to indulge in puppy shit as he called the pecking order nonsense. He winked, explaining that his Master's Thesis, should be one of these. What he already had done before he started his Master's, smiling. His Doctoral Thesis, would be doing the rest. Again, obviously… the work already done. He calculated that this Master's Thesis, then Doctoral thesis? Might generate "interest" in a research place somewhere. Leading to a "real" job, and not just a "scrub" typical entry level programmer's position.

   I didn't lust after his money or prestige this all might bring him, if everything came together right and his grand plan popped a soccer ball into the tiny net. I could smile at other women who marveled at how I had such a romantic devotion from such an important man. And this was the same man, that spent a couple years learning to fight bigger, stronger men. And more than sometimes win. He had spent years learning and practicing a superior method, then exploiting it ruthlessly late in the game, when the enemy thought they had him beaten down.

   He hadn't spent years in the service, learning to fight well so he could beat up bullies. He simply wanted to have the ability to do it. The confidence to know it was a thing he could do. He wanted left alone, to do his work. And if some drunk gorilla insisted on putting their hands on him, I saw videos. He would shred their joints and leave them laying face down in a puddle of their own blood when they made the mistake of following him into the parking lot to have more fun with him, and impress some ditz majoring in basket weaving that was impressed by her "bad boy".

   He avoided it all, because he simply didn't want the hassle. He didn't have the time nor inclination to stand around, pretending to get drunk but not too drunk, so he could win some pecking order brawl and impress some Miss Basket-weaving. All for his chance to taste the clit that had seen a hundred other useless dicks, to win a week being her bad boy of the week.

   He wanted me. When I was teased for not taking random dicks to create a longer list to show off how desirable I was, he instead liked this about me. When I was teased for being too tall and too muscular for an otherwise cute girl, he loved that, too. Preferred it. When I didn't just lay there and wiggle around in bed, taking it… when I confidently ordered him around if only in bed, and took what I wanted, he liked that, too. If we shared the compulsion on flip sides of the same coin, and I would restrain him, punish him, tease him, then make him do exactly what I wanted? He liked that too.

   He really was, as he joked, the 350 pound gorilla when you were in his sport. Academic sports. People marvel at heavyweight boxers, that win the title. The top wrestler, that wins his title. But… there were also mixed martial artists. They did the work of several fighters in one, and put it all together. You saw the best of them on Cable TV, clips on the internet, doing their thing. Boxers, weightlifters, bodybuilders, wrestlers, black belts in whatever-fu… all were tops in their game, but feared those men on those shows. They mastered or mixed partial mastery of enough other jobs, that they were the top dogs that performed the jobs of several others in one man. And did it effectively.

   That was… him. But, in academics. Not in the fighting world. Computer programming, he was the Wizard. The nerds all called him THE nerd, not A nerd. And he liked it. The Electronics Engineering students, gave him a bemused respect. His hobby of electronics? Was obviously no hobby. He was friends with a couple of the top EE students, who found it again somewhat amusing, that he was something of a mascot. Students barely scraping by in EE, were joked they had to measure up to the guy that did this for a hobby, or what the fuck did they ever think they would get hired to do in their field. He'd been the mascot before, and liked being out of his element. Learning to get by in another world he would never be the king of, but wanted competency at it none the less.

   He understood "just" enough chemistry, as he needed to scrape by as he put it, understanding the basic ideas behind creating the advanced epoxies. In chemistry? He was me in calculus, or worse. But, he showed mettle. He drudged through what he needed to slowly figure out what a real chemistry student would do easily. Physics, too, the same way. After understanding what he was up to? I suddenly understood his connection with his "chemistry friend" as I called that one. He helped him with his higher math classes, quite diligently. Obviously, this was the "chemistry god" that paid him back by explaining the weird epoxies. Hell, the chemistry god might have designs on being the chemist that could get special epoxies made in small batches for the engineers to play with applications.

   Those two shared little smiles back and forth, when they gabbed in their strange languages they shared. They were both planning on becoming gods one day.

   He was hanging out with machinists, and reading about it in his spare time. So he could eventually "get" his metal box made precisely enough. Have enough friends to help him by making him something on expensive CNC machining equipment, at expense of the college for a project for their class. Contacts. Friends. He got them through math and computer classes as they needed.

   And mathematics, it ran through all his fields he was drawing together.

   Mathematics. Computer Science. Electronics Engineering. Chemistry. Physics. Machining.

   He wasn't content to be the Computer Programming Heavyweight Champion with that title… he wanted to be the Mixed Martial Academic, to try to "get on TV" and mix it up with the best academics that were like he was. If he couldn't be top dog, he would be at least a respected mascot of the academic fighters there. He was humble enough, too.

   Toot, the tutor known for patiently explaining computer science and higher mathematics to jocks trying to get by and get their own real degree. He had a way with them, and its why the Coach and other coaches sent their scholarship risks to ask for him. He would smile, drink his coffee… patiently explaining things in a way that only a fellow jock and military man and fighter could. The professors didn't use football analogies, to explain Trigonometry. But he did. I had heard about one such explanation. A soccer team mate, needing to get through Trigonometry, to get her education degree.

   We want to know where the soccer ball is on the field, and be able to describe it. See the yard line markers? We'll simply have yard line markers across the other two sides of the rectangle, behind and across the goals. Now? we can give two numbers, to pinpoint the exact location of the soccer ball at any point in time. If we kick the ball in a straight line, to this team mate? We have two points. The exact location you are at before kicking. The exact location of the other player you kick straight to. Now, lets describe mathematically, this exact pass in a straight line. Why? So we can say exactly, how it happened later. One soccer team mate, had been sharing the "Toot explanation" with another team mate intimidated by Trigonometry. Oh, that did make more sense now.

   Toot had asked Trigonometry soccer girl out for coffee, only after "Tooting" her successfully was completed. So he was polite and not being creepy, trying to trade her keeping her scholarship for a cheap and coerced pity thrill. She turned him down, but politely. She used the old "I have a boyfriend at home" excuse. Gentle. Why, I asked her. Look at him. He's not looking like the other math geeks. He works out with some jacked ripped guys every day. Ah, she said. But he hangs out on the weekends with the nerd club. Playing video games. I can't suffer that, and I don't want made fun of for that. Gee, did I understand nothing of how things worked?

   I know this speech. I've heard it before. I smile. I had learned how the girl's world worked finally? And didn't want to stay there.

   She was better though, than another I knew. She had been sent, note and name in hand, to the Mathematics Lab. She waited for Toot, to have an open hour to work with her. Once again, a sports girl having trouble with this time a basic computer course needed for her degree to get completed, for her scholarship to survive. Another success. Later on, after she had gotten what she needed and wanted? Toot happened by. As usual, some small talk and into his well practiced coffee suggestion. She wasn't polite. She wasn't even blunt. She had bragged at all the fun she had made of him with in front of people. Toot had simply shrugged and walked away. She always trotted this story out, how dare a man with an IQ over 100 have the gall to so much as talk to her outside of an academic necessity. Boy, the things she said to him, she sure taught him a lesson.

   I sat there and waited for all the brouhaha to die down, and simply pointed out. Gee. When you needed him, and he was the best one to help, he helped and you got what you needed to keep your ass into the minimum to keep your scholarship. You don't have to fuck him, you don't even need to accept the free coffee and small talk in between classes politely. All you had to do? Was not go overboard being a complete cunt about it. Oh, that's right she said, I forgot. The Hurricane has a soft spot for faggots, I forgot. My apologies.

   So I'm sitting there, down in my basement below the basement, the big thick cement safety bunker, looking up at a… well built physique of a young man. He's my willing victim, and seems to love having me render him helpless. Completely at my mercy. Anything that crosses my compulsion attacked mind, any dirty overheard thought to try, I can do it and try it. Whatever I want. I'm not only allowed, but encouraged and somewhat enthusiastically mind you… to punish him, and train him to do exactly whatever I desire in bed. No no, kiss here first. Slow, don't rush this part, I want to savor this. Okay, now move up and touch that. No! Not that, there. All right, keep going now, finish me. And the next day? I "punish" him so he remembers exactly how to please me at the moment.

   When he has it perfect, to my OCD specifications? Well. We're adding this in. Punish and instruct on that, and adjust where it fits in, until mommy is pleased again. Anything I want, is mine for a gesture, a word. I can train him what to shift to by touch if I want, so I can moan and eat my corner of my blanket and still manage his controls. Any humiliating or shameful act I want to giggle and try once? I just do it. No Retards Monthly magazine article, how to sweet talk your man into giving you X. Which is of course the new thing this month, you know. I'm looking up at a helpless victim strung up for my pleasure, and hanging there for my complete control. Hey. There's this thing, X. When we're done here? You're going to do that. Mommy better be pleased with your attempt, or else. It gets done. No "eh, that's silly" like another man might do. Whatever I say. When I say. Where I say. How I say.

   If I'm not pleased? I have no one but myself to blame. If I see some silly picture of a woman laying on a couch, getting a tongue bath and being fed peeled grapes placed onto her tongue? Cool. I bring home a bag of grapes. I say "You. Follow me." and I get nothing except followed. I lock us into the fraidy hole cement tomb, and I render him helpless. I then punish or threaten him as it pleases me. Then I host a little class. No. Peel the grapes like this. Do it again! No, put it on my tongue like this… again! When I release him, I instruct him to keep quiet and follow me to the bedroom. He follows obediently. I pick up a silly little stick, and point at the pillows and covers. Have them arranged for me, until they resemble the fantasy artwork I admired. Then I get tongue bathed exactly where and how I wanted, and fed peeled grapes exactly as I trained him to do it.

   I'm not into the "furry" bullshit, but… if I was? I'd simply bring home our costumes, dress him up and train him to do what I wanted… then… whatever I wanted and imagined, happens immediately. No! You hold mommy's tail in your mouth when you fuck mommy from behind!

   Anything. Everything. Mine.

   Over time, I understand him now. He does come off as smart, but he's more than that. He's not weird, not really. He's some eccentric genius type. He wanted to go to the best school, so he could do these things. The service? Got him the money he needed. While he was there, he marveled at his MP world he got dunked into and enjoyed. He formed a long range plan when he was 18. Four years in the service, will get me into the best university I can dream of. Grants plus full GI bill? Should just make it. Graduate school? Will pay him, not cost him. He's, what? Four years service, two into college… six years into a 12 year long range plan. No wonder living in a dirt hole two more years didn't bug him. The payoff is down the road more. He was two years away from getting paid to finish the rest of his degrees. Grad students get a nice little paycheck, free room and board, and live simply but comfortably.

   I asked him falling asleep, talking idly about all this like I enjoy before sleep. He smiled, and caressed my cheek lovingly with the back of his hand, smoothing a strand of hair aside gently. He told me, I finally "get it". Doctor Wiz? Will graduate right around the time "Doctor Chemistry" graduates as well. Machinist boy? Will be already well off and into getting more experience at his craft. Doctor Chemistry, will suggest epoxies they can't possibly get. The other chemists will laugh. Then? No no, we can. Look at this master's thesis, his doctoral thesis.

   That's great but… no, you guys don't understand. This was my buddy in college. The prototype? Works. I've seen it work, with my own eyes. The machinist that pulled off the prototype? He's got years more experience already, he's available and better than ever. The machinist's uncle owns a CNC machining company. Its why he's here at our university right now. The three of them? Are going to turn into something big, something only the three of them can do. The CNC company that can make the prototype? The nephew runs the machines. The guy that designed all this? Its my college buddy. You want epoxies you can't get? We just pick up the phone, its there waiting.

   Its why he couldn't be satisfied with anything but a girl that appreciated him, just for him. The real him, underneath it all. He explained gently, that other girls? Sure, the idea of a guy that made big money or was all important? It did appeal to them. Sure, other girls were attracted to some tough guy. But… he wanted someone that liked him, just for him. I liked the guy living in the dirt hole. I liked the geek just fine. He said he felt like I deserved him. When the time came? Chemistry boy, was going to get his masters and doctorate in those special epoxies anyways. That, was his "thing". A research chemist in the advanced epoxies? There was a big demand for it. Military, aviation, NASA and the space industry. The big plan. Demand, when he talked about what they couldn't order but wished they could. Then, the other two were ready and waiting.

   This young man? Was mine. Dedicated to me. In the end, I'd have things the other girls wouldn't. Real love, not just a fake game ran on some poor guy, using him. In the end? He'd be important. I suppose money and something called success came along with all that, but… he'd be… mine. All just because I liked him, just for what he really was, underneath it all. His words, not mine. What he couldn't get in high school, what he couldn't fully get in the service? He felt like he suddenly had now, in me.

   I never felt that before, not to that degree. It was touching and romantic.

   I'm not jealous per se. But… no girl will cross my mark, or she will not dare to do it again. I was not raised on princess stories, and far from it. My experiences growing up did not lend to them either. But god himself help me, I can play pampered princess anytime and in any way I see fit. The day spa care I'm honing the routine down on, for when I come home from "work" all beat to hell and sore to pay for expensive degrees? I swear, no one gets that level of care and treatment.

   Outside of the bedroom, everyday life? Oh lord, I'm being teased and eyes rolled at me all day long when anyone sees me out or at home with him. One of the other girls wanted to jog with us. Oh, her soccer team mates were being too lazy in the off season, some company for the morning run would be nice. Fine. I'm smiling. Showing up with her hair dolled. To get dunked in sweat first thing in the morning? Please. Giggle hair flip, giggle hair flip. Flapping little wrists running. Right. After the run? Oh god, I smell like a wildebeest. I simply need this… perfume. I'm going to throw up. I let her go, and went in to get us drinks and some fruit for breakfast. I left them alone in the front. Smiling.

   I could hear it as I was coming out. Ma'am? You wanna run with us, fine. You wanna wear perfume? Fine. I don't know what that shit you're spraying around is, but I'm getting dizzy and you're quite frankly giving me a headache. Would you please go sit down, in your chair? Which is over there. I feel like a mosquito, and you're trying to gas me. Christ.

   This would only be half as funny. Except… the truth is that she is, by any objective standard? Better looking than me. There, I said it. She has the great hair. The much prettier face. She's tall, though not as tall as me. She's muscular, but again? Not as muscular as me. She's more streamlined, and more appealing to regular men. In short, she looks like a cute fitness model. My boyfriend? I'm overhearing him making fun of her, for wearing expensive perfume, and annoying him by standing right up on him. Or he's being super sweet by being loyal. Either one makes me wet as fuck.

   I ignored it. I'm having fun. She's trying to stand right up on him every time my back is turned. He's complaining. When she stuck around for a few burgers on the little grill for lunch, she got accidentally in the habit of flapping her little wrist onto his shoulder. Standing near the grill, watching the meat cooking. Right.

   When he went in to use the bathroom later, I stood right next to her. Smiled. Told her out of nowhere, to knock it off. What, she exclaimed. I told her. You see my number on that T shirt he's wearing? That's mine. You put your hand on his arm or shoulder one more time, I'm going to break it off. Oh! And she tried to play it off. No, I said. You can stay and admire it all you want. You set another finger on it? Well, you can gather what I told her by now, with everything you now know about me. Hey. I'm an insufferable cunt, after all. I have a reputation to uphold. God. I'm a girl, and I can't stand most of them. Their man? Off limits. But, magically any man that belongs to someone else? On the menu.

   Then I hear back about this the next two weeks, the girls soccer gossip grapevine. Whatever. She got her little crew together to try their best tactics. First? Downgrade my man. Because as we all know, if the girls don't approve, and say "ew", well then, I should drop him in an instant. Why? Because most girls do. Yeah, right. That didn't work. Next, they tried making fun of me. For slumming it with a nerd, etc etc. He's a faggot, etc etc. Aha. I countered. You were watching him, working out with the tough guys in the yard. I didn't see your boyfriend rushing down, to play and have fun with the tough guys.

   It was true. His little display, bringing all the ex-army buddies over, to have fighting practice in the yard? Made quite a spectacle for the other girls. He came out of the closet, for me. To make me happier.

   Then, as I said, the push came to the shove. I'd had enough. I ain't risking much on the whole girl's social network. I snatched a decent sized team mate up and fired her off the wall. I explained shit to her, like a guy would explain it to another guy in such a situation. Basically put, you can say and talk anything. You lay a hand on him in my presence or he comes and tells me you did? Well… I do have a certain reputation. I didn't win any girly points with that. I don't care. I never gave two shits about the girl's point system anyways.

   The basic upshot? The Hurricane is all head over heels for Toot, and you risk getting shit stomped for giggle hair flip in front of her. I suppose it doesn't hurt that I can and will do that? Well, that doesn't hurt any. And I tell you, that was good enough for me.

   But… sitting here, looking up at him, strung up for my pleasure? None of that matters now. All that does matter, is that I'm about to enjoy some of the fruits of my labor. Soon. Sitting here, quietly, making him wait. Wondering what I'm going to do next. I told him to stay still and be quiet, and he's doing it. Well, he's not actually being quiet. The occasional sob still goes through him. Some puckering and tears still happen. The little shudder now and again.

   I'm sure with this picture I've painted you, there's simply no way to tell what the outsider looking in would even think. I suppose a complete stranger would assume I hated him. Perhaps think I was torturing my helpless victim. They might even think I was paid to do what I'm doing. Assume I was some kind of kinky and expensive escort. A team mate? Might assume I was just having "fun" with a "cheerleader".

   I guess it appears to be a big, complicated messy thing. Most people wouldn't understand if I tried to explain it to them what was really going on. A page full of Egyptian hieroglyphics. But if you know how to move things around, get rid of them, simplify it. All there is at the end, is very basic. This is my lover. We both like this. We're going to fuck soon.

   "Take all the time you want, little boy. I think we're done for now."

   I walked up to him and got behind him. Ran my fingers over the corduroy lines on his bum. Traced a few whip lines. Felt the raised red welt. Ran my fingertips over his oiled skin.

   "As you can see, mommy means business. Me and you, we used to play a fun little game. We will again, I'm sure. But not now. Now its very real, as you just found out. You got punished. This is what happens, when you misbehave. And that nasty little bit of extra business? That's punishment, too. That, was for thinking you can give me puppy dog eyes, and manipulate me. You can't."

   I scratched my fingernail lightly along a nice bullwhip welt.

   "I'll tell you about punishment. What it is. It takes two people. One person, is in charge. That person has authority, over another. That person is in control, and they can wield that authority. In case you haven't noticed? That person is me. I have authority over you. You belong to me. You have no choice, just like a little boy."

   "Since the beginning of time, children misbehave. Its normal. You have to teach a child. To do certain things. To not do other things. How to behave. For the longest time, children got their ass beat. To teach them what to do, and what not to do. They learned what was expected of them."

   "It worked. Children listened to their parents. Children learned to respect authority figures. To be polite. To do what was expected of them. Society had some sense of structure. When a child went and took something from another house, and brought it home because they wanted it? That's stealing, for instance. Mommy would beat her child's ass, and the child learned not to do that again. It just works. Then, when the children grew up? They didn't steal. They were polite to other adults. Society works way better? When it has structure, and discipline."

   "Somewhere along the line, we lost that. Permissive and indulgent mommies got the strange idea, that it was harmful to have structure and discipline for children. Children do whatever the hell they feel like. Little children are included on the decision making processes. No more real punishment for misbehavior. Time out. Grounding. Bribing the child to please do what you want, by giving them treats. You shake your finger at them, and tell them you're very disappointed in them."

   "Now, just look around you at the results. We have absolute shit for a society now. Spoiled and completely undisciplined children do whatever they feel like. They grew up to be spoiled and undisciplined adults. They act like spoiled children. It's shit."

   "Here's the simple facts. Most children learn very quickly when you set down rules. When they break those rules? You beat their little ass. They learn not to do that. When they don't do what you want them to do? Again, you beat their little ass. They learn to do it."

   "The new way? Children break rules, and they have to sit for all of five minutes, then they go on their merry little way. They learn that if they do get caught, they're barely inconvenienced temporarily. Why not do what you want. And bribing a child with treats to behave? Please. Every time the child misbehaves, they get a treat. Why not misbehave and get rewarded for it."

   I walked around him, running the coiled up bullwhip over him. Tapping him firmly on his ass cheeks with it.

   "I'm not having it. I'm in charge, and I'm going to provide structure, and discipline. Lots of it, in case you didn't notice just now. Structure, is rules. I'll tell you what not to do. Then, if you do it anyways? I'll punish you. I'll make you follow my rules. Every one of them. Structure, is doing what is expected of you. You'll do what I say. If you don't do what I expect out of you? I'll punish you."

   I ran the coiled up threat over him and whispered in his ear.

   "You now have a very strict mommy."

   I continued to walk around him, touching him on marks. Swatting his ass playfully.

   "Punishment. Time out. Grounded. Giving treats to bribe them to listen. Shaking your finger at them. That's not punishment. Real punishment? Is using force. The little boy learns that he's helpless when Mommy is not pleased with his behavior. That when he does what mommy doesn't allow, or doesn't do what mommy expects? He gets punishment. Mommy puts the little boy over her knee, to show him he's truly helpless. Mommy holds him there. Mommy beats a naked ass? Because it provides extra shame, to be helpless over mommy's lap, with a bare bottom up for her to smack. Its humiliating to be held helpless over her lap, naked little ass waiting to get smacked. Its part of the punishment."

   "If mommy is not strict enough? Pants still on going over her lap, smacks the butt a few times, then lets the boy go. The little boy learns he just has to complain, and mommy will feel all bad, and its over. That's almost as bad as not punishing him at all. The little boy quickly learns, that the punishment ends when he makes some noise. That's the little boy being in charge of punishment. The little boy is deciding when its over. That's mommy not being strict."

   "Pants on. Couple swats. Little boy wiggles and complains some, and he gets set free. That's not what we're going to do. Mommy is going to do it right. I'm going to show my little boy who is actually in charge here. And its not him. A couple tears, a little crying? Uh uh. The child learns to put on a show, and it ends. That he's in control of the situation. No way. The cure for that? They cry, then you give them something to cry for. Then… you really give it to them good. Then you give them some more. Lots more."

   "This was your first real punishment. This was just an introduction, little boy. I meant what I said, every word of it. The next time I need to correct you? We'll see if an hour across my knee getting the paddle works. I'm going to show you who is in charge here, and its me."

   "Now. As you figured out, its not sexy fun to get the bullwhip. I think a lot of little boys get that idea, seeing silly videos. Those are not real whips, like mine is. Those are fakes, like the kind you get in naughty book stores. The girls are all dolled up in a silly costume, putting on a show for the guy having naughty fun. I've seen it. I've been preparing for tonight, and what comes after tonight. Fake naughty book store bullwhips, girls dressing up in silly costumes. Putting on a show. They don't even know how to use their props correctly."

   "I hope you don't think you even got it used on you for real. You didn't. I used it as lightly as I could. We were actually having a nice little talk. A couple light cracks to keep your attention, while I explained things to you. You have absolutely no idea, what a serious talk would be like. Now. Here's how this is going to go. I suggest you listen up, very carefully."

   I ran the coiled up whip over him and tapped his ass a few times before going back to running it over him some more.

   "You asked for real punishment. You asked for a really strict Mommy. I tried to talk you out of it, you wouldn't listen. I told you it wouldn't be a fun game like we've been playing. You kept asking. Congratulations, little boy. You got it. Now there's no getting out of it. If you try? Well… I think you know what that will get you."

   "I'm going to go over the rules, and what I expect out of you. Strict punishment for breaking rules, for not doing what's expected of you. You started learning a few things tonight. I speak. You listen. You will not interrupt me, or correct me. When I tell you to stop it or shut up? You better listen. You will do what you're told. You will be polite and show me manners. This is for when we're alone, and in particular when I want sex. When we're around other people, we're the same normal couple as always. No one will know. This is just between us."

   "Tomorrow morning? Remember what I told you about how its going to go. And don't be surprised, when I grab you, and I just force my way in. All the way. No screwing around, getting there. We're going to get right to the point, quick. Then I'm to give it to you rough. Real rough. You thought your first rape was kinda fun and hot? We'll see about that. A real rape is forced. You don't have a choice, but to give the person what they want. How they want it."

   "Wanna know about rape? I'll tell you. Psych major, had a class on introduction to rape. Cute name, huh? Hmm. We hear it all the time. Rape is not sex. Rape is about something else, and sex is just being used as the tool. A baseball bat, is for playing baseball. If I smash you over the head with the baseball bat, am I playing baseball with you? No. That's the difference."

   "Sex? Is what I've been doing with you all along. I'm pleasing you. I care that you enjoy it. Even when I get on top and ride you rough. I'm just pleasing you. When I direct the action in bed? You like it, same as I like it. That, was me having sex with you."

   "Rape is not sex. Rape, is about taking a person against their will. Rape is about having power and complete control over the victim. Its painful, and its humiliating. The victim usually gets aroused, and orgasms. That adds to their shame and humiliation. We won't be having sex tomorrow morning, I'll be raping you. I'll show you that I have power over you, and complete control of you. I meant every word of what I told you, and more. I'm going to put it in, and grab your hips and push it all the way in, as far as I can. Not gentle, not going slow. Right in. Then I'm going to start fucking you. Hard. I'll do it as hard and as fast as I want to. I'm going to loosen your little ass up, then bang you and really give it to you good."

   "It will hurt, and it will be humiliating. That's because it's meant to be. When you enjoy it sexually, and you get hard? I'm going to laugh, and show you. Only a little slut would enjoy it, and I'm going to prove that you're a little slut, for liking it. I'm going to make it more painful and more humiliating that I have to. For fun. The more the victim cries and begs, the more fun it is for the rapist. It lets them know they do have power over the victim. That they really do have complete control of them."

   "I'm going to make it worse. I'm going to have you ask me for it. I'm going to have you put my toy on me. You'll lube me up for it. You're going to stick your naked little ass up in the air, like I showed you how I want you to. You'll beg me for it. You'll beg me to do it hard. Then? I will. You'll cry, you'll squeal, you'll whine. Pitifully. If you scream? You'll be punished for it. Then we'll do it more, to show you I can."

   "Once you see that you get hard, and it proves you really are a naughty little slut? I'm going to take you all over the house, little boy. I'm going to bend you over things, and since I already have you loosened up? I'm going to give it to you good, everywhere. When we're done? I'll show you. We're going to take a blanket in the living room, you'll beg me for it even harder. You'll stick your ass up and do what you're told, and I'll fuck you even harder in the living room, and I'll stroke you lubed up at the end, and you'll love it. You'll know for sure, that you're a complete slut then. I'm going to record every, single one of these? And when we're all done… we'll have naughty movie time, and I know I'll have fun watching it. You'll watch too, and see how much of a slut you really are. I'm going to stop, and replay parts. Make fun of you. And you'll love it."

   "By the time we're all done? We will have created a link. Between the pain, the humiliation, and you getting off. You'll get it whenever I feel like it after that, and you'll start to like it more. Eventually, you'll miss it? And I'm going to enjoy hearing my little slut ask for it one day. I'm going to celebrate that day, by taking you to get my own mark put on you."

   "Lesser forms of rape. Date rape, for instance. That was what you got tied over mommy's table, the first time. Typical date rape? You play with rope or handcuffs for naughty sex. One day? The little slut finds out its different this time. They take it in the ass, and the date rapist won't stop. Its usually not violent, and they even get it slow and careful, but they take it. Like you got it over the table. I wanted to see if you got off on being raped, and you did. You're my dirty little slut."

   "Mommy is going to be very strict with you from now on. Until you finally earn your position, as my personal slut. We'll celebrate by me putting my mark on you, to show everyone that I own you, and you belong to me. By that time? You'll have been punished enough to know, that I demand strict obedience. You'll obey me. I will in general, punish you by bringing you down here, for one of these little talks we just had. Every time I have to do it? Its going to get more severe, until you learn strict obedience."

   "Don't confuse punishment with being corrected. I will not be letting things slide now. Instead of letting something slide? I'll give you one chance, to get corrected. I'll tell you what you did, and I'll tell you what you get for it. You will not need tied up for a minor correction. You'll bend over, and not move, and not make a sound. If I tell you to bend over the bed, you get twenty good licks with the long medium switch? You'll take it, you will not move, or make noise. If you do? We will repeat it. Harder. If you can't sit still and be quiet? That means you want severe punishment instead of me being nice, and giving you a gentle correction. We will then come down here, and have a nice, long talk about it."

   "Once we get to the point you've earned your spot, as my personal slut? Things will then go back to being normal. You'll finally be allowed to ask me for sex again. You'll be permitted to initiate sex with me. I will have taught my little boy how to behave properly, and you'll have the nice mommy back. I'm pretty sure that you'll appreciate having a nice mommy again. You're not even afraid of mommy yet. You just think you are. This was just a pleasant introduction to being punished. Pretty soon? When mommy starts taking her belt off, you'll pucker up and start begging me not to hurt you. It will probably just get you more. You're going to learn, real quick, that I speak once. If I have to repeat myself? Well… you know how that will go."

   "Once you earn your spot, as my personal slut? We'll have a lot of fun after that. You'll be doing everything imaginable in bed with me, and loving it. I'm going to take all the shyness out of you. You won't be ashamed of doing dirty things anymore. You'll know that you like it, and you'll ask for it. I like being obeyed in bed, and you like obeying me in bed. This will just make it… so much more."

   "But. Until then? You noticed, I'm sure. You don't get finished down here. This is for real punishment, not fun. I don't allow you to ask for sex, until you've earned your spot. If you do? Well, I don't recommend it. But, feel free to ask anyway. See what you get for disobeying me. I, will fuck you, when I feel like it. If you get horny? You can ask for permission. Once. You bug me after I say no? Don't do it. Yeah. You're going to be horny as hell, and licking my twat and doing anything else I feel like getting? And not allowed to finish, until I feel like it. You're my personal property, I own all of you, and I'll do what I want with it."

   "You notice, I didn't ask you if you agree to all this. I told you, not to ask if you weren't sure you wanted it. Too late to say no now. And if the word no comes out of your mouth? I dare you."

   "Now. That about covers the basics. I'll tell you as we go along. Let's get you down from there…"

   I untied his blindfold, and threw it over towards my little bag. I walked over and unwrapped the rope from the gate latch on the storage cage, and he finally got off his tiptoes and I let his hands down. I pulled the rope over the strong overhead pipe, and dropped it in a heap by him. I untied the rope from his hinged handcuffs. I unlocked the double locks on his hands and ankles. I removed the ankle hinged cuffs, then the wrist hinged cuffs. I went and sat down, and beckoned to him.

   "Come. Stand here."

   I ran my hands over him some, and traced my fingertips over the bullwhip welts. I slid my hands around and drummed my palms on his ass cheeks, and then rubbed my palms around on them, before pulling him in. Holding him to me with my hands on his cheeks. I kissed around his welts, and ran my tongue down many of them.

   "You fucked up. There's one problem with all of this. I told you about it before it started, and you didn't listen. Having a strict mommy? Is one thing. But… your strict mommy, is a little sick and twisted. I get wet, when I make you helpless. I get wetter, when I hurt you. The more you cry and whine and squeal? The hotter it makes me. Its fucked up. The person hurting you, with complete and total control over you? Gets off on it. Its not good. I can see it now. I'm going to punish you harder and longer than you actually deserve. I'm probably going to come up with excuses, just to do it more often."

   I ran my tongue over welts, looking up at him.

   "Go bring me my bag."

   "Now. Get the rope, and make a ball like we started."

   "Good. Now get both cuffs…"

   I had him get everything out, into the bag.

   "Now pick up my whip. Kneel and hand it to mommy."

   He did, and he was obviously nervous, and started looking down.

   "You're allowed to look at me. Look up."

   He came up and looked at me, blushing.

   "You're very cute, when you blush."

   "Thank you."

   "Very good. Manners. We might get somewhere."

   I uncoiled my whip out loose, and handed it to him.

   "Go on, take it. Its not a trick. Feel it. Its the real thing."

   He felt it all over, dropped it into his hand.

   "Its a custom one. Top of the line. It was expensive. I was around, turning 14. When I saw my first Caballeras performance. Remember the old movie? The one with the… archaeologist, he has adventures. He has a bullwhip and a leather jacket and hat? You know the one."

   "Oh. Sure. Watched it as a kid."

   "Yeah. After that came out, I read all kinds of people started playing with bullwhips. It wasn't just for people with livestock anymore. People who normally would have had no business or interest, were getting one and playing in the backyard, as you can imagine. It was a thing. Most people, I'm sure, just got the standard thing. Dirty book store bullwhip. A few people who could afford one, got real ones. Even a custom, like mine. I want you to kiss it. Start at the handle. Go down the entire thing, slowly, to the tip of the lash. I'll tell you about it. Go on. Start. I want you to lick it, too. Lick it like a slut would, trying to impress mommy with how well you intend to lick my twat when we go back upstairs."

   He started to kiss and lick slowly down the thing. Blushing up a storm.

   "Every type of whip is different, and has a different purpose. If you don't grow up on a farm, its not normal to have them around to play with like I did growing up. Just like the people that got hats and jackets, and played with a whip? I saw the Caballeras, and then found the old bullwhip up in the rafters of the barn. It was old, and dried out. I knew enough about caring for one though. You soak it in water, and see if it comes apart. That gets the leather dry dust off of it, they slowly come apart over time, dried out. I saved it. It was just about to start going to whip heaven."

   He was into the kissing and licking of it now. Still blushing, which I liked. I rubbed his hair and smiled.

   "You wet it and dry it a couple times, to clean it. Get the dry dust out of the weaves. Its not a braid, its not a weave. This is called plaited. You plait leather straps to make one. Its time consuming and all but a lost art now. Machine made ones? Just not the same. A master whip maker gets it tight, and knows how tight to make it, so it can last forever. Machines can't feel. They start out too tight, and loosen up over time. It takes time and patience, and experience. Hence, the cost. Because few people do it anymore."

   "After cleaning it and drying it a couple times, and seeing I saved it in time? I had to work it, and oil it. You work it in your hands, and oil it, and keep working it. Takes a while to get there. When there's no work to be done on a farm, and its raining or snowing? You play in the barn. I amused myself learning to try to use it. I wanted to learn to snap it, and make the cool noise. Its hard to get it right, and do it on demand."

   When he got to the end, kissing and licking the lash? I told him to go back the way he came, then he could do it again, until I told him he was done. I told him he looked like a little slut, showing me how naughty he could be with his tongue, and that he was pleasing me.

   "The snap is called a lash stroke. As your tongue is feeling, its very thick off the handle, and very slowly tapers down, all the way to the end. The last part? Is the lash itself. Handle, body, lash. When you make the motion, it goes faster as the whip gets thinner. The energy of your stroke is the same throughout. But as the whip gets thinner, the motion speeds up. By the time it gets to the thin lash end? It moves so fast it breaks the speed of sound. That's where the earsplitting crack comes from."

   "I would jump up on a hay bale, and try to hit things I put up on other hay bales. Like I saw the Caballeras doing in their show. The easiest thing to learn first, is laying it on. You whirl it around to get your speed. The big trick is getting your distance down perfect. You want just the lash to hit the object. Going from right to left on cans? Too far you don't hit your can. Too close, and you take out other cans. When you just hit the first can, you knock it off, and can do the rest. Took a while to do all in a row, without missing, or knocking extra cans over."

   "When I lay it on you? I want this part of the lash, to hit flat… like this…"

   I held up the thin end, and stretched it out while he helped me, to line it up and match it to a red welt on his chest.

   "I'm good enough, I'm not accidentally wrapping around, and risk taking out any of your back ink. Only the lightest laying it on strokes ever hit your back. I wouldn't want to ruin your back piece. Worse, with a really hard lay it on stroke? The lash end can wrap around and dig in between ribs."

   I smiled and rubbed his hair and my hands on his cheeks, and told him what a good job he was doing, practicing with that naughty little tongue, so he was going to be ready to please mommy with it so much very soon.

   "Next, the wraparound stroke. You want to be able to estimate to get a full wrap, like this…"

   I wrapped it around him, and he helped me, blushing.

   "You can get a full wrap. Or more, or less than a full wrap. Distance is critical here. I learned to get what I wanted. Practicing on a barrel. Takes time. Now, when I wrap on you? There's a laying it on effect, and at the end, its going faster. Like here…"

   I smiled and licked my lips down at him, and wiggled my tongue for him, obscenely.

   "Then the lash stroke. That's an air crack, that lands. Too close, you don't get the full snap. Too far back, I miss. When I get it just right, though…"

   I scraped my fingernail lightly along one of the several dark red teardrop formations and he winced.

   "Yeah. Very painful. The lash is traveling faster than the speed of sound, and trying to sort of dig in. In slow motion, you'd see how it sort of punches in, then comes off. It would resemble a pebble dropped in the water. This is the most dangerous stroke to use on you. I have to hit you somewhere where the skin can punch in and rebound. Like on your chest muscle, or your belly. The naked ass cheek is the best, and its the safest. I stayed off your ass, for obvious reasons. The fronts and backs and sides of your thighs were my other safe targets."

   "Having a bullwhip used on you is actually very dangerous, if I didn't know exactly what I was doing. I'm very accurate. If I missed a fleshy part, and hit somewhere flat, like… a rib cage, or a shin? The skin and fat can't punch in, and the scraping motion moving faster then the speed of sound can rip your skin in two. Bad. I'm not being overly dramatic to scare you, either. I could easily rip your testicles open, or even off. You could lose an eye, or have a cheek ripped off. You would need stitches, bad. You could easily bleed to death before we got you stitched up."

   I saw the nervousness on his face. Scary ride fun.

   "That's why I blindfolded you. So you can't see it coming and move. That's why I snap several times before I lash. That's why your wrists and ankles were in the hinged handcuffs so you can't hardly move. That's why I strung you up so securely, on your tiptoes. I would actually love to see you dancing around, screaming. But its not safe. You need to be held completely still and helpless, for safety."

   "Now. The back and rib cage, has very thin skin. It can rip, because the skin can't punch in like it needs to. You would see your ribs, and see the lungs underneath. And it should be obvious, that a lash that came in on the worst possible angle, and landed between ribs? Can not only rip the skin. It can rip the lung underneath, too. You would die."

   "The bull-whip's real original use, was for driving large animals. Like full grown bulls. Hence, the name. Bullwhip. A large bull can be over two thousand pounds of pure muscle. You can't get his attention with anything less. His skin? Is about as thick as my thumb in places, and its leather. When you're driving bulls, you need to keep them moving. They turn around on you? It can be bad. You use the noise, to spook them and keep them moving. If they insist on stopping, you can lash their ass, to get them moving again. Because if they turn around and go for you, you can get killed."

   "The bullwhip wasn't invented for sexy fun time. That's why they make shitty dirty bookstore versions. Light, thin, and short. They're harder to use, and once you get to using it some finally, they're harder to control. Then, they're still dangerous. Its made for full grown bulls, not naughty little boys. You, are actually very lucky you got this from me, and not some ditsy halfwit who thinks she's a professional whatever. I've read about it, people end up in the hospital, and die. I wasn't even allowed to work the bulls and run the livestock with the men when we did it, until one of the farmhands saw I could actually use the one I found so well."

   "People got a kick out of it, I guess. Seeing a tall 15 year old farm girl, running full grown bulls down chutes, and had my grandfather's old whip oiled in and knew how to use it. The older teenage boys and young men that normally do that work at farm auctions and big livestock shows? Naturally teased me. But, I've jumped in front of guys that a 2,000 pound bull turned on him and opened up the nose or the face, and got him back around and moving again. The jokes stop after they see that."

   I complimented him again on how well he was showing off his naughty little slutty tongue for his mommy, and how wet mommy was and couldn't wait to have him use it on her.

   "By the time I tried out for a spot to replace the original Vaquera, I had practice under my belt. I had practice using it for part time work, too. That's how I won my spot. Now, I knew how excited you were going to get, seeing my videos from my performing days. I knew you'd want a couple licks, that's why I gave them to you, handcuffed to the pole in the regular basement above us. I wanted you to see, this thing is very serious."

   "You need to understand this though. After you make your spot, and become my fully trained personal slut? I don't want you acting up, trying to get this used on you. You don't want me to use this thing on you with any anger. When that time comes, and you want some special naughty fun? Come and ask mommy for it, and we'll plan for some fun if you want. I'll be more than happy to give you all you want, and a little more, too."

   "Now. Something else. For the next couple weeks, I'm going to be training you. Most of your punishment will be on your naked ass. Unless you do something particularly ridiculous, you will not be getting this bullwhip for a while. I'm pretty sure we established, that going over my knee is no laughing matter anymore. When mommy's belt comes off, you're in for it. That paddle, too. And as you saw when you acted up, and got extra belt and paddle time, I can handle you fine without using this on you."

   "But. Don't get fooled. No matter how good you learn to behave over the couple weeks I'm training you now? You still need a lesson taught to you, and I'm going to leave a real impression on you, that will stick in the back of your mind long after you get to appreciate that the nice mommy is back. When its time, I'm going to take you away. Probably two weeks or a little more. Now then, you'll be getting close to earning your spot. I'll tell you its time, and you can be extra special good, and really show mommy how you don't need any punishment, and are so good, you don't even need any correction."

   "You should be pretty well trained by then. I'm going to have a completely unmarked bum to work with, not a mark on you. I want a virgin fresh canvas. Not because you were bad, but you need to know what could happen. I'm going to drive you out in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of the night, I'm going to string you up like down here. You'll be completely helpless, and blindfolded and gagged and everything. You'll be on your tiptoes like that, on a blanket."

   "Now. I'm going to give you a very serious talking to with this bullwhip. Not a nice little talk like down here just now. A much longer, much more serious conversation. Its going to take a while, and I won't lie to you. Its going to be pretty bad. Its not punishment, its so I make an impression on you. What I can do to you if you're ever really rotten and acting up. You need to know what can happen. You're going to get seriously marked up. When I'm finally satisfied, and let you down? You're going to scream and cry on the blanket, and lay in a puddle of tears. I'm going to then give you a little lecture, and you better remember it."

   "Now. You noticed the baby oil, I'm sure. That's not just for show, or for fun. A bullwhip is a serious thing, and I oiled your skin all up, for safety. If you remember, I didn't just oil you up. I oiled you up, then worked and rubbed it in really good. Then oiled up a top layer again. That was to protect your skin from ripping or tearing. Mommy loves you, and doesn't want to permanently injure you. You need punished, not maimed or killed."

   "Now. I'm going to need a heavier oil than regular baby oil for that lesson when the time comes. I have a special oil, that's more of a clear grease. Its much thicker and heavier than regular baby oil. Once I have you strung up, I'm going to grease you all up really good. Then I'm going to spend some time, working it in and rubbing it in really well. Then, you're going to get a heavier top coat of it after its rubbed in, just like I did with the baby oil."

   "Baby oil was fine for just these really light strokes. That lesson will be a lot more severe, and last much longer. It will make it safer for me to really open up on you, and give you a serious talking to, without maiming or killing you. And after I let you down, and give you your lecture to remember it… you're going to crawl to me, and grovel. You'll beg and promise me, how you belong to me, how I own you, how much you love it. When I'm satisfied, I'll tell you. I'm going to then be extra special nice to you. I'm going to clean you up, and I'm going to care for your marks, which are going to be really bad."

   "We'll have two weeks or a little more, so, you'll have plenty of time to recover. I'm going to be very sweet to you, and do things for you like never before. I'm going to let you use me, any way you want. More than once over that time. Because all this time, you won't be getting to do that. Nice mommy will be back, and she is going to want used like never before. I won't spoil your surprise, but you'll get a new treat I'm sure you're going to love. You'll have earned your spot, as my personal slut forever. A couple days up front, to get the nasty thing out of the way and then recover, but, the next two weeks will be serious fun."

   "The heavy clear oil, the light grease, will protect you from permanent marks. When we get back two weeks later? By then or shortly after, all your marks will be gone. I'll take you for your permanent mark. You'll permanently be owned by me, with my personal stamp and number on you. After that, I'll never want anyone else. You'll be my own, trained, personal slut. Unashamed to do anything I ever think I want to try. Not only do I already trust you now, but on top of that? You'll carry around little marks on your butt, and when they fade you'll get new ones, I'm sure. You won't be able to drop your pants and let any bar slut see you. I'll continue to mark you as mine, a little bit at a time. Forever."

   "Now. Couple more things. When we graduate in two years? I told you, we get our own townhouse. Just so you know, how we'll celebrate getting it. Uh huh. Some serious discipline, just for my own personal fun, down in our very own sub basement just like this one. Maybe that serious bull-whipping will have faded slightly from your memory by then, and I want to remind you of what can happen. Then? Nice mommy will be back, until you ask for strict mommy for special requests. I'm really looking forward to spending graduate school, and getting our doctorates, living with you. Just knowing I can bend you over and have any kind of fun with you I want, and you're willing and loving it? Is going to be great. When I wake up in the middle of the night, and grab you and fuck you however I want, then go back to sleep? Heaven."

   "Coming home after getting beat up at practice or a game and being cared for perfectly, is going to make me the happiest girl in the world. And. If we end up with me getting a farmhouse somewhere for us, you can expect the same moving in celebration. If I have a barn and some privacy to use it for that, instead of just a basement? Well. You get the idea."

   "Oh. Fun fact. They make a special bullwhip. It's made out of lighter leather, and it's still long and tapered and balanced. I'm going to get it, because it will let me use it on you for much longer, as hard as I want, and not kill you. That one will be for special naughty fun when you ask for it. But, if you ever see this one? You'll know you did something, and you're going to really get it. If you ever start pissing me off, and you don't take the hint? When you see this one taken out, you'll know what's coming. I'll tell you when we're getting married. And if I ever have any serious problems with you? I'll be damned if I file for divorce. I have a way to fix anything I need to, and I will not be the least bit shy about doing it. I'm really sure, after you see what I do to you on that two week and a little more break? You'll know."

   "Hmm. You asked me to make you afraid to get punished. I swear to you, I'm going to give you just that. Long before we're done over the coming weeks? I promise you, when I give you that look, and start taking my belt off? You're gonna start puckering up. And… once you get your serious talking to with this thing at the end of your little slut training camp? You'll fear me. I guarantee it. You're gonna see, I promise you. The first time I get tears from taking my belt off? That will be something, I'm sure. In the future, if I take this thing out, still oiled and coiled up, and threaten you with it? I guarantee you, you'll tear up, and beg like the biggest slut ever, not to get it used on you. I know, I'm never going to have any serious problems with you. Ever. And if I do? They will get fixed. Pronto. Don't ever test mommy. You'll pay dear for that."

   "Now. I think I explained how this is going to go in fairly good detail. I won't lie to you. This is not going to be uncomfortable the next several weeks? I'm basically going to torture you. For fun. It's going to make me very wet, every single time. I enjoy it. You made a serious mistake asking for this, but now you're stuck with your choice. You'll literally pay for asking for this with your ass. Now. Its not all bad. There will be a little bit of fun along the way. And? Big fun after you get your serious talking to at the end. Just try to listen, and take your correction, so you can avoid serious punishment. But… you're getting plenty of that, trust me. You wanted a strict mommy? Well now you got one, and mommy is going to show you some very strict discipline. You will show me strict obedience. Or else."

   "Hmm. You can taste mommy's whip oil. I told you about what some of the other girl groupies put up with. You, are my little boy groupie. A little slut. You know the thing about a little slut? They like it. They like anything you do to them. The dirtier and the more humiliating, the more they love you for it. I started out calling you a slut, and my little groupie, as just a pet name. But you know, I realized along the line somewhere. You really are a dirty little slut, just a boy slut. Our third date, the first night we slept together? Come on. I smacked your naked ass with my whip. You loved it. I bent you over the car, and you loved it more. By the time you got tied up and got a serious whip across your ass? You were in love."

   "You know I'm right. You don't make sluts. You find them. And I found you. You were going around to all the tall, strong female athletes, just waiting to get picked up. I'm just the one that wanted you. You're mine. You're very lucky you got me, and not one of the other ones. They? Would have used you and thrown you away when they were done with you. Passed you onto the next girl. You wouldn't have known they were sharing you and taking turns with you, until you were all used up. Good only for a fun night to do anything with, then tossed out like an empty beer can when the party was over. But I found you, and I'm going to keep you. I'm taking the trouble and putting out the effort, to train you. To be my very own, permanent slut."

   "Now. You asked to be allowed to submit to me. You begged. Its time. Beg one final time. Make it good. Grovel at mommy's feet. Beg like only a little slut can beg. Let me hear you."

   He did beg and grovel. Kissing my shoes, rubbing my ankles, lifting my jeans cuffs up, kissing and licking without stopping on my ankles, before going back to my jogging shoe laces.

   "More… not like an ordinary slut. For my own personal slut? I want a dirty shameless one. Beg…"

   I got it. Wow. This was more fun than I thought. Taking charge in bed was one thing, this was the ultimate fulfillment of it. There were plenty of ideas for this part, where they pledge to submit to you. For training. To be accepted. Almost all of them, involve the groveling at your feet. Whatever you decide to call your submissive you take in. Slave, little doggy, slut. This is part of what they call the humiliation ritual. When I read that, I remembered back to our first night sleeping together. I had him put his face on the tops of my feet, and he had started kissing the tops of them of practically his own accord. He wanted this, before he even knew.

   "All right. Promise me. How much you love me. Tell me how loyal you'll be. How you swear, you'll never, ever seek this or anything else from any other girl. Ever. Tell me you understand what I'll do to you, if you ever lie to me and I find out. Beg me to believe you. How dedicated you'll be. How you'll submit to me, completely. My every whim. No questions, ever. Promise, and beg."

   He did. Fervently. Wow, this was fun. Why don't all girls do this. They really don't know what they're missing out on. This is so much more fun that a conceited jerk using you and treating you like a tissue. This is like the olden days, when men would beg you to have them. Promise to be loyal and true, to the death. All we have left of it, is the last vestiges of it. One knee to be asked to be married. Then even that's just a formality, it doesn't mean shit. God, this is a rush.

   "Tell me you understand. For the next several weeks, what I'm going to do to you. I know you can't predict it, but tell me you submit to it. I'm going to hurt you. Bad. I'm going to punish you, severely. I'm going to humiliate you, and treat you like a complete and total slut. You'll beg for it, you'll beg for more. You'll ask for it. I'm going to do things to you, that I wouldn't do to a farm animal. Beg me for it."

   I let this go on for a while. Oh lord, this was the best thing ever. I felt powerful. I realized I now was. It was no longer a fun private joke. I actually owned my boyfriend's body. It belonged to me. He was my own personal property. My fuck dirt bike. I could beat on it, and get it dirty, and it would always start and run and ask for more. I couldn't wait to take my new dirt bike out for a spin and beat on it some.

   "All right. Kneel up here. Look at me."

   He did.

   "You, are picked out of slut tryouts. I believe you, that you love me, and that you want to be my own personal slut. I'm going to train you, to serve me. You already have a good idea what I like. The dressing and the undressing, are personal favorites of mine. Work hard on it, and make those times perfect. Remember, I will let nothing slide now. You forget something, you do it out of order? You'll get corrected, or worse, punished. You also know by now, that my shower and bath time, is my favorite. Take serving me in there very seriously. You'll get huge rewards for doing it well. I'll correct you or punish you for forgetting anything at all now. Mommy loves it, and after mommy is all beat up after a hard practice or a game? I'm going to really enjoy that."

   He promised he would make me happy with both dressing and undressing, and shower and bath time.

   "Now. This isn't all one way. I intend to reward your loyalty and devotion. I promise you, that I'll never use another boy, for this or anything else. Ever. I think you already know that, but I want you to know I promise. I've been studying this and preparing for this, so I was ready. I'm shocked to learn, that one of the favorite features of this arrangement? Is that other people's mommy's have more than one slut. You? Don't get used like that. You'll only have one strict mommy. Me. I will not have a… stable of little sluts. Just you. I'm going to be very strict with you, but it's because I'm training my own, personal slut for my very own. To keep. Forever. You'll be surprised, when I'm on the websites where I read this stuff. I'll show you, and you'll be surprised how common it is."

   "I'm serious. You're very lucky, to have a good mommy. Other mommies? Are very bad. When they're bored with their little slut? They give them to other mommies, to have fun with. Tell them to have fun with them, and you can imagine how horrible that would be. I love you, you're my boyfriend, and I'm going to make you marry me when the time comes. Can you imagine what disgusting things another mommy that didn't love you and care about you, would do to you? They get drunk and anything goes with a rental slut, is what they call it. You'll never get thrown away like that. I'll show you, they actually trade sluts for the weekend, then brag which one did the most disgusting things to them, and laugh about it. I'll never do that to you. Now, thank me for being a good mommy to you, and being loyal, even though I'm going to be very strict with you over the coming weeks."

   He thanked me and wouldn't stop. God, this feels good.

   "Now. There is an upside for you. Most mommies have a plan like I have been giving you, so the slut has some idea what to expect. Now, the usual thing? Is they're just having fun trying you out. Then they do terrible things to you, and make you give up. You, that will not happen to. I already want you for my own personal slut, and I'm training you to know what I expect out of you. You'll make it through this. But, the reason is because you wanted to have no way out. And I accepted you. So, its kind of a catch 22. You'll make it and earn your spot, but you also can't quit and get away. You? Are trapped."

   "Now, its kind of not fair in a way, that you know you'll earn your spot… but, to be fair and make up for that? I've decided to be the absolute strictest mommy I can be. Now that means you're going to get very severe punishment. For very small things that would normally get overlooked. You? Are going over mommy's knee down here, and are really going to get it. Worse, and more often than any of the others I read about. I'm not kidding, and I'm not exaggerating. I won't lie either, I'm going to enjoy it. I know that's kind of fucked up, because you know I get wet when I hear you scream and cry. Do you understand what I'm telling you, and do you accept that."

   He did, and he promised he would be good and do anything I wanted. Man, the rush this gives you.

   "Now. You've told me your personal… slut history. You got fun birthday and Christmas smacks, twice. Then never again. When you liked it, she should have tried to please you. If you haven't noticed, I give you lots of special treats all the time. I actually like doing it, and you like having it done. We're a perfect match. When this is over, we'll go back to that. I promise you, I'll never ignore you, and not give you what you want like that, okay? Now kiss me like a slut. Lots of wet, sloppy tongue. That's how little sluts like to kiss."

   I draped my arms around him, and kissed him in the wettest, sluttiest manner I could. I enjoyed it, too. When I was done, I doggy licked his face several times, up both sides. Long, slow, sensual licks.

   "And that? Is how you kiss a little slut. You like it, don't you."

   He did.

   "After you get your little tramp stamp for me, I told you things aren't one sided. I'm going to get one too. You, are the Wizard, right? That's your nickname in the computer department, and you got it in the service being a… computer god there, too. Right?"

   He agreed.

   "All right. I'm not a… tattoo girl. But when you get yours, I'm going to get a little wizard for my own tramp stamp. When I lift your shirt up, and show off that you have the hurricane on your little ocean down there? You'll be allowed to lift up my shirt, and show your computer friends, that you marked me too. We'll belong to each other. Okay? I thought you might like that."

   He did. He was ecstatic, really.

   I slut kissed him some more, and this time I draped my knees over his shoulders the way I liked, and did it longer. Doggy licks in between wet sloppy kissing. It was ridiculous, but I loved it. When I was done, I left my knees over his shoulders and felt in my bag. I brought out my paddle, and the last cold drink can. He eyed the paddle, and was obviously nervous. I kissed him, and shushed him. The way a real mommy might kiss away a bad dream.

   "Shh. Its okay. You're not getting it again. Not right now, anyways. Its all right. I just wanted to show you something… see that?"

   I held it up for him to see. I'd had it made like a regular fraternity or sorority paddle. It kind of spelled out his name, for the three Greek letters. Wiz.

   "Do I have… mommy's permission. To say something. I don't want… punished for correcting mommy."

   "Hmm. That was very polite. Yes, you may. Go on, little boy. I promise. You will not get an hour of hard, fast paddling on your naked little ass for it. This time. Go ahead, dear."

   "I and Z, are Iota and Zeta. We use Greek letters in mathematics, to represent important variables. But, there's no W in the Greek alphabet."

   "Hmm. Technically, you're right, dear. But… while its true, the I and Z are Iota and Zeta? That W. While it technically isn't a W… that's Psi. It kind of looks like a W though. So, this paddle I used on your naked little ass earlier just now, twice. Is named for you, personally. Psi Iota Zeta. Its a university, dear. We can actually hang it up in our room on the wall, and no one will suspect a thing."

   He kind of liked it.

   "You ready for the best part, little boy?"

   "Yes…"

   "When I take a picture of your naked little marked up ass? You'll see. Its stamped on your cheeks. You can see it."

   He blushed and smiled.

   "Hmm. Mommy's not done either. My new belt didn't make it here in time for your birthday. I ordered a belt, and you can get your name on it. I got my jersey number, and my nickname. Hurry. So, the next time you go over my knee down here? I can put my nickname, all over your ass in little marks. I'm going to mark your little ass up, that I own it."

   I wiggled my legs over his shoulders like a little girl somehow, that's how it felt to me. I kissed him extra slutty and threw in lots of doggy licks. I left his face extra wet, and smiled like a fool.

   "I like kissing a slut. Now. Until this thing is done, you're going to get extra chores to do. Its just until this is over then it will go back to normal. I'll tell you what they are, and you'll do them. For instance, I'm going to have you clean and polish my soccer spikes? And you're going to spend the time to do a great job. If I'm happy, you get rewarded. If I'm not pleased? You know what you get. I also plan on getting a little stool, at the junk store downtown. You, are going to kneel, and polish my spikes. But that's later on. Right now? You were doing some crying earlier. You want to share this last drink with mommy?"

   "Yes."

   "Okay."

   I opened the can, and with every other drink, I swished it around in my mouth, and kissed it out slowly into his mouth. He drank it and then thanked me when we were done.

   "Good boy. You really are lucky you have me to be your strict mommy. I wasn't kidding how terrible a lot of the other mommies are online. I'll show you, you'll see I'm not making it up. They give each other tips and tricks, and one section is sharing ways to humiliate the little sluts. Its a thing, I guess. When you have room mates, and live in the city where that's normal? They think its cute to leave the door open, and let the others hear and see it when they walk by. Can you imagine how humiliated you'd be, if I left the door open while I was giving you the switch, crying? Or tied up over the bed, raping your little ass hard."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. It must be… some kind of competition. Seeing who can do the worst thing like that, and they all laugh. Its fairly common, for mommy and her female room mates to have a party, then a drunk and out of control mommy… gets her slut to come out, and will use them a little in front of the roomies at the party. I'm serious. I've seen pictures, its completely unreal. But the worst, is what they call mommy parties. Other mommies are invited over. They get drunk, its a party. The mommy hosting the party? Has her slut already tied up. She brings him out, and… you can just imagine what goes on. The pictures and video clips, like I said, completely off the reservation. Spanking parties, gang bang parties, one was a little pee party. Poor little slut was tied up in the shower with a sign on him that said ladies urinal. Its also a thing for a party like that, after its over? The girl who has a birthday or got a promotion or whatever. Gets to take the slut to a spare bedroom and use him any way she wants. Its not her boyfriend, so… anything goes."

   "You promised, you…"

   "No. I don't share. And? Its a secret on top of that, so I couldn't even if I wanted, which I don't anyways. You? Are safe with your mommy, as strict as I'm going to be with you. Well, you're anything but safe, but you know what I mean. You? Are for me to use like that. No one else."

   He looked reassured.

   "Thank you…"

   "Aw. You're welcome. The only one I was thinking of…"

   He puckered up, nervous.

   "Aw, don't be like that. I promised. I was looking, I mean there had to be something I could do. The only one I saw, and that was a maybe, mind you…"

   He nervously asked what it was.

   "One mommy had her… friends, or other mommies over, or whatever. She had pictures and videos, they kind of… gang tickled him. They were drunk, and having fun. That, wouldn't be… you know… sexual. That would be the worst way I would ever share you. And that's only a maybe. And just the once."

   He was nervous, and asked how bad it was. I told him they were obviously drunk, and laughing. There were several of them, and he ended up screaming and crying, while they carried on. There were several of them holding him down, and they took turns doing the holding and the tickling.

   He started with the please don't, looking up at me kneeling in front of me. I suddenly smacked him hard across the face.

   "Shut up! Not another word! And no whining, either! Do you remember what you got for whining, when you were told not to? Do it again! I dare you! I'm being very nice to you right now! You? Are not in charge! Mommy is in charge! And if mommy decides to get drunk, and have a party, and get a couple girls to have a little tickle party? Mommy will do it!"

   I smacked him across the face, pretty hard, a couple more times.

   "Are you trying to puppy dog eye me? Make me feel sorry for you? Not gonna happen, little boy!"

   He got a couple more pasted on.

   "You got a serious ass beating! Extra! For trying to get out of punishment! What the hell makes you think you won't get another one, right now! Worse! You know what? That's a great idea… we're going to learn a lesson, right now…"

   I got the hinged handcuffs out, and put the both of them on, nice and tight, and double locked both. I had the paddle near me already, from showing him his name. I let him see me taking my belt off.

   "Now. You? Are going to be punished, worse than before. Don't even start. Now. This thing where I have to grab you, and put you over my knee? Uh uh. Part of discipline, is that you submit to it, and you submit to me. Right now? You lay yourself across my lap. All nice and polite. Because if I have to grab you like before? You're going to get more."

   He finally bent forward, and I helped him over my lap. I got my leg over his, and grabbed the front of his collar, and held it down firmly.

   I gave him the belt, and his already burning and stinging ass had him crying in no time. I grabbed the bullwhip, and wrapped it around his mouth and held it behind his head. It both gagged him effectively, and gave me a handle to hold his head down firmly. I belted his helpless little ass over my lap, quite mercilessly, and gave him little lectures in the breaks.

   "I make the decisions! Not you! You're going to learn that!"

   "You don't try to get out of punishment! Or you get more!"

   "You need something to cry for? Fine!"

   "You want more? Fine again!"

   "Sit still!"

   "You want something to move around for? Here you go!"

   "Oh, you want more? Keep wiggling!"

   "You wanted a strict mommy! Enjoy it!"

   "I'll do anything I want with you! You belong to me!"

   "What part of strict discipline didn't you understand!"

   "I warned you! Not letting anything slide!"

   "You tried manipulating me earlier! How did that go! You must have forgot! Here's your reminder!"

   "Now you're trying it again! So I need to do this twice! Fine!"

   After I belted the shit out his naked helpless ass long enough, I switched to the paddle.

   "I swear, when mommy's belt comes off? You'll cry seeing me do it before I'm done with you!"

   "Oh, you like the paddle? Have some more!"

   "Going to try to tell me what to do and not do again? Go ahead and try it! I dare you!"

   "I make the decisions! Not you!"

   "I was just about ready to take you upstairs and be nice!"

   "You were going to make me happy!"

   "You were going to lick me!"

   "Then? You were going to fuck me like I want!"

   "But oh no! You? Would rather get the paddle some more! Fine!"

   "Go on! Shake your little head no! I dare you!"

   When I was done, and it took some time, mind you… I had him stand back up.

   "Now stand there, until you quit your whining. Or you'll get it again. I thought I just explained to you, I'm going to be the strictest mommy ever. Apparently? You thought I was kidding. Now. This? Was for trying to manipulate me. You need to stop trying that. I? Am in charge. I'll do what I want, when I want. Whatever I want to do. I, am the mommy. A very strict mommy. You? Are the little boy who won't quit misbehaving. If we have to spend all night down here, doing this over and over again? We will. You figuring out which one of us is in charge yet?"

   He was sobbing and crying, and shook his head yes. I grabbed him and tossed him right back over my lap, and gave him a little more, to an explosion of non-gagged crying and tears, before I put him back up again.

   "I asked you a question. Have you figured out which one of us is in charge yet?"

   He sobbed out "mommy's in charge".

   "And that? Was for nodding your head, instead of answering me. And this…"

   I did it again, a little longer and faster and harder, to more noise. Then I stood him back up again.

   "And that? Is for making me repeat my question. I speak once. I don't repeat myself. I already told you that, you apparently don't care enough to listen. Now. Listen up, this is going to help you, not me. I like doing this. You're just making my twat get wetter. So, any excuse? And you'll get punished. And if you hadn't noticed yet, every time it happens? It gets worse. Keep it up. See what happens."

   I crossed my arms sitting there, doing the perturbed mommy routine. I honestly don't know how I keep a straight face for these little performances. But somehow I manage. My panties were getting soaked, it was unreal. I wasn't kidding him about enjoying it.

   "Maybe something was unclear to you before. I'll spell it out for you again. And you're lucky not to get some more, because I'm repeating myself. My little gift to you, you got a free one. Don't expect a lot of those. You begged me, to submit to me. You will submit. Do not test me, you will not win. You will submit to me? Completely. If you don't, I will make you. As you just found out. Again."

   I made him thank me for punishing him, and thank me for giving him a free one for making me repeat myself. He sobbed out thank you's and apologies, then I told him to shut up.

   "And I sincerely hope you don't think when the girls get back home, that you'll be any safer around me. Soundproof and plenty of privacy down here. We can have these little talks all night long, while they're watching movies, or whatever. The way things are going, you better get used to this treatment. It's looking like you're going to get a whole lot more of this, before you figure out what it means, to completely submit to me. We'll have as many of these little talks as we need to, to get that clear."

   I unlocked him and let him go. For extra humiliation fun, I showed him my phone was recording. I made him get in it, crying. So he could watch these later on for our "naughty movie nights" when we were alone. I made him say humiliating things. He had to tell what he got it for, etc. My favorite website for this, all the other "mommies" agreed that the little extra humiliations, were fun. When he had composed himself some, I had him get everything together. I scratched my index finger upside down in the air at him, to beckon him.

   "Upstairs…"