PART FOUR – Training

   When we finally got upstairs, I had him make us a snack. Then I had him get us cold drinks. I sent him upstairs to get us a blanket and spread it out in the middle of the living room floor. I had him first undress me, then pile my clothes up. Not the upstairs kind of "important" undressing, just take my clothes off slowly and fold them neatly. It was cute that he kept starting to take items off in that fashion, I had to smile and tell him it was fine. He was being sweet and shy. Some combination of his normal eager to please slowness and the usual kiss and touch me slowly until I gave him the vibe to start or told him what to do to begin, was mixed in now with the new gun shy of watching what he did and said, careful to look down and not look me in the eye without me grabbing his chin and bringing it lovingly up to meet my eyes.

   I'm sexually dominant, I always did like it when he took my lead. His natural willingness to kiss and touch until it was time, instead of diving right in for the usual guy quickie any girl has to stop and realign when you want it differently. Then my mild rush of my new power and authority and exercising it. This new wary caution and gun shy. Mm. Delicious. I was sitting with my back to the couch, crossing my ankles out. He was kissing and touching my legs, waiting for my cue. Finally. I had my "ooh" feeling back, anticipating getting licked and fucked coming close. I was savoring it and he was kissing back down my shins to reach my ankles and either come back to almost my knees again, or maybe rest on my ankles, or little kisses without being told. Yum.

   "You're being very good right now. Keep it up."

   He thanked me for my compliment. Yum. Then he went on to explain he was trying to be good, he was trying to please me, he wanted to make me feel good and do whatever I wanted him to. He just wanted to be good and not get in trouble by being tricked, how well he would listen to me. I went from the soft mommy voice to the soft stern mommy voice immediately. I stuck my foot under his chin and lifted his face up to look at me staring at him. First the voice, now what was fast becoming "the look".

   "You. Eyes up here, slut. I don't know what it is with you. Mommy? Has a wet twat from beating your naked little ass so much. I want licked and fucked. Are you trying to keep me from getting serviced like I want? Why do you want punished more, instead of just keeping your mouth shut when you're ahead of the curve, and just lick and fuck. You're a little slut, you're good at licking and fucking mommy. Stick with that. Do I need to make a new rule, that little sluts are to be seen and not heard, until told to speak? Just so I can get licked and fucked, without having to stop and remind you who is in charge here, and what I expect, every five fucking minutes? Don't speak, you'll probably just piss me off more."

   "All right. I'm the mommy. I don't have to explain myself to the little boy. Now, that said. If you don't know what a punishment is even for, there's nothing being accomplished. You get punished, for a reason. Even if that reason, is simply for general purposes. I'll tell you. That what you're about to get? Is not because you misbehaved, but just because I want to keep you on your best behavior. Don't speak. Listen."

   "You may or may not get the point of what I just explained to you, little boy. So. I'll tell you the moral of the story. You think I need to trick you, into getting your ass beat another time right now? I don't. I'll take you right out to the kitchen table, and put my switch across your ass until you have to sleep face down for a week. No trick needed. It just needs a strict mommy, a misbehaving little boy, and we have both. If I tell you its for general purposes? Then that's what I tell you."

   "Now then. I think I understand what's going on here. Its actually a little bit sweet, but I don't want you getting into more punishment accidentally. Your little ass is obviously going to get plenty as it is, you don't need more. We used to play a fun naughty game. But its not a game any more, is it. You used to have a nice mommy. Very permissive with you. You got used to it. Your nice mommy did used to play a fun little game with you. You said swats, you weren't paying attention, I said swat. Then you got your little love pats repeated. That, was the nice mommy game that she played with you."

   I pushed my foot somewhat firmly up under his chin, and gave him a sterner version of the new strict mommy voice.

   "You don't have a nice mommy anymore. You have a very strict mommy now. There will be no more fun games. I don't need to trick you, to repeat a punishment all over again. I'll simply tell you. Now? You get another hour of that hard paddling, all over again. Why? So I know we understand each other. No tricks needed. I understand there will be a short period of readjustment. Going from a nice, permissive mommy. To one that demands strict obedience. This will be a very short period of readjustment, or it will be an extremely painful one. Either way, it will be short, and either one works for me."

   I looked at him for a little bit.

   "You've been picked out of tryouts. You're in the tough preseason camp. Returning players, reclaiming their spot? Know what to expect. New players, have it rougher. That's you. When in the future, we have a little refresher course on all this, I'm thinking once a year sounds about right… you'll be a returning player and you'll do better. I have a limited amount of time, before my preseason camp starts, and I'll be needing my after game care, my dressing and undressing, and most of all my shower and bath day spa pampering. I need this leftover nice permissive mommy shit out of the way, so I can concentrate on what's important. Now then. Repeat after me. There will be no tricks."

   He repeated it. I made him repeat it several times.

   "Now. Thank me, for taking the time, to explain it to you."

   He thanked me like I asked.

   "The phrase you're looking for? Is thank you mommy. Again!"

   I got what I wanted.

   "Now. Mommy loves her new stack of handcuffs. They really are handy and useful, just like I dreamed they would be. Go get the little box with them. Did you notice the hinged ones?"

   I got a nice little yes mommy. Ooh. Tasty.

   "Go get the little box I'm talking about and bring it to me. Shoo."

   He did.

   "Open it."

   He opened it, then handed it to me. I took them out and showed him. In addition to the stack of regular high quality blemished regular cuffs, the pair of hinged ones went with the bulk buy. So did several others. I pulled out a couple of these. They were the long chain version of the regular handcuff stack. Longer chains that were chrome then black. The machine that made the chain was changing over, and produced blemished chains. The blemished regular handcuffs they were attached to somehow "went" with the switch over. One side plate chrome, the other plate black. Highest quality, dirt cheap price. Perfect.

   I put a long chain handcuffs on his ankles and had him walk around for me. Get us more drinks, and another snack. He took short steps, and I chuckled.

   "Nice. I'm going to have fun with you in these in the bedroom, I can see that. I have four of these long ones, they'll be very quick and useful."

   I tried them hands in front, and saw he could move around but was unable to reach back and prevent me doing what my heart's desire was at the moment behind him. Smacking his ass, fucking him, anything. I had a sudden image of him washing the kitchen floor, his ankles and hands in these, and I got wet. A shackled slave doing chores, humiliated and hobbled. That was my compulsion striking again, naughty images that flashed fantasy snapshots to my mind's eye. I tried them out behind the back. His hands could not reach around front. I could play with his cock and stop and tease and watch him squirm. Delicious.

   Then my compulsion snapped another picture through my naughty brain. Both at once. Try it. I was playing and giggled. One in front, one in back? His hands were caught at his sides, and couldn't get behind or in front. I could lay him on his back, I could flip him over face down, too perfect and handy. I would definitely be having lots of fun with these, for hours in the bedroom before sleepy time came. It was going to be fun to have him sleep in these. Get up and have to beg to be let go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, if any of the girls were home. If we were alone for the night? He could hobble in to pee and hobble back to bed. Get his ass smacked a couple times for waking me up. Fun as hell.

   I put the double set on and left them there, admiring my ingenuity. Then I looked at the long one on his ankles. The compulsion struck again, with another naughty snapshot. Do it, it said. I smiled. I took one ankle out, ran it up and through the set going across the small of his back, and it just made it back to the other ankle again. Drawing both ankles up tight. Completely helpless. Face down. Delicious and tasty to play with. I put my feet together under his face, watching him test and struggle this new helplessness out.

   "Kisses."

   Little kisses and licks. Heaven.

   When I was starting to agree to this strict mommy game, I was ambivalent. Sure, directing the action was fun in bed. Always had been. Finally having a willing victim to tie up and put my riding crop across his ass, was a fun revelation. Not that I never had a naughty compulsion thought of it, trust me on that count. A farm girl playing and working with whips her whole life, that discovered she liked wet towel snapping a naked wet make out butt, in a weekly ritual? Yeah, using whips then practicing with one imitating a show I had seen… I can't lie, and if I tried you wouldn't believe it anyways. Its too obvious.

   But, the new strict mommy game? Was getting to be more fun by the hour. The compulsion fed naughty snapshots, and I had no reason not to indulge my fantasy images as they came. Anything I wanted. Seeing his hands at his hips, held at his sides. The long handcuffs going around both front and behind, holding them firm but loose there. Now the ankle cuffs snaking up and drawing his ankles up? A helpless, willing victim. Captive. Wanting the strict mommy to abuse him before turning him into anything she wanted, to be used for her future pleasure.

   I was enjoying this too much. I was seeing myself putting him on the bed in this exact position and shoving something in his mouth, some music to cover the gag talk, and simply… torturing him for fun for a while before letting him fuck me and we go to bed at the end? Yeah. There it was. It technically wasn't torture, it was playtime. When the torture victim is willing, it's not torture, its your playtime. Just like rape wasn't any longer rape, it was playtime too. Willing rape victims that ask to be forced, aren't rape victims. They're now a play partner.

   I was still looking down at my feet getting my little kisses and little licks while he struggled gently, and was filled with fun ideas. Nice mommy, the old ritual, the old game. Nice mommy became me quicker than I thought. We're alone? Nice mommy was just there, with no bidding her to come up and out. Now, strict mommy? Was fast coming easier and easier each time. I saw it now, when this was all over. I would be me, and nice mommy and strict mommy would be in there with me. We would take turns playing with my boyfriend. We would share him. He liked all of them. He wouldn't have to cheat to have three girlfriends. I wouldn't need three boyfriends depending on which would best satisfy my mood, like some of the other turbo-sluts around campus had.

   "I want my wet twat cleaned and licked. I want fucked. I've been looking forward to it for some time now, and I had to keep having longer and longer talks with you in the basement. Now I'm just about to get… licked and fucked, like I want? Here we are again. Question. Do you really want me to go through the hassle of we both go down to the basement again, to have another little talk? I think you know how that talk will go, and I'm sure you won't enjoy it. It will be the longest talk we've had yet. I will. I'll take it out on your ass, for making me wait so much longer to get licked and fucked like I'm looking forward to. Trust me. Is that what you want? Speak words. You move your head, I'll spend extra time in the basement with you for that. Speak!"

   "No basement. Please."

   "I figured. Just thought I'd check. You seem to like it. I aim to please. I'll give you a choice. Do you want a choice? Strict mommy will rarely let the naughty little boy in on the decision making process. Choosing your own punishment. What a fucking farce. Rare treat, if you want it. Do you want a choice of how I punish you for sassing me with the little trick comment? Speak."

   "Yes. Please."

   "Fine. Option A. Mommy's belt and paddle are right here. I'll just tie something in your mouth, and you'll be helpless over mommy's lap, and I'll go to town on your ass. Curious what option B is?"

   "Yes mommy."

   "Well. You can have the unknown. You have mommy's promise, it will not involve smacking you in any way. Choose. Over mommy's knee. Again. Or… what's behind the mystery curtain. Take a minute to decide."

   I kept getting my little kisses. This is heaven. I'm actually here, deciding which way I torture him next. Getting off on it either way. Christ, am I going to hell when I die, or what.

   "Can… I please ask?"

   "You want a hint?"

   "Will it… hurt."

   "It will not involve pain, no. So technically you will not get hurt. Mommy's belt, the paddle. That will hurt. The new one? Will not hurt. There will be tears either way, both are punishment. You'll learn to watch what comes out of your little sass mouth. Every word? Will be polite and respectful. Now choose."

   "B. Please."

   "Fine by me."

   I tied the still moist bandanna tight in his mouth and knotted it behind his head. I grabbed the chain of his ankles drawn up so the ankle chain went over the small of the back chain. I held both ankle cuff chains, nice and tight to the ankle cuffs. Then, I started tickling his feet.

   I had done tickle torture a little before. This was more severe. I got the crying and screaming, and the tears. His struggling was muted by his condition. Just enough struggling, it was fun to watch. Strict mommy was enjoying herself, and I was too now. I paused for the safety breathing breaks. Safety first. Then resumed with no warning, and went at it again.

   I enjoyed myself longer than I thought I would. When I was finally done, it had taken a while. Longer than I had planned on. Smiling. Getting wet. Enjoying the screams and cries and the struggling of my helpless if willing victim.

   "Now lay there like a little slut, and get your shit together. If its not quick enough to please me? I'll do it twice as long. Do not test me. This is way less effort for me, than holding you across my lap, and giving you the belt and the paddle forever. You? Can look forward to what you just got, for a lot longer in the future. I'm going to have fun with my helpless little slut, on my bed like this? For hours. Until you learn your place."

   I waited.

   "I'm waiting. If I have to listen to whining and crying anyways? I might as well do it again. Did you forget, that I want licked and fucked? Let's get a move on. You better watch what comes out of your mouth to me. You might have some misconceptions of what being owned and used means. But, maybe after tomorrow's demonstration, when I fuck you like I mean it? You'll start to get the picture. Don't let me get bored waiting for my fun tonight."

   I waited a while, and when we were down to reasonable sniffles and light sobs coming and going, I untied the bandanna.

   "I'm curious what comes out of your mouth right now. Speak to me."

   "I'm sorry, I didn't--- mm!"

   I shoved the bandanna in, and told him if it came out of his mouth for any reason whatsoever, the punishment would be so severe he wouldn't believe it. I grabbed my chain and held on tight, and tickled him mercilessly for a while. When I paused, I took the bandanna out and spoke.

   "I'm not some whore you followed home from the bar. I, am your mommy. You will address me with polite respect when we're doing this. Don't ever forget it. Now. Allow me to help you remember it."

   I shoved it back in and tickled him for probably twice as long. When I paused again, I once again took the bandanna out.

   "I'm sorry momm--- mm!"

   We went back to it. I stopped and started again several times. I left the bandanna gag in though.

   "Sorry is some magical word, that nice mommies are all permissive and allow misbehaving little boys to say. Strict mommies know better. Sorry? Is some magical word you say when you misbehave, and you think it makes it all better. It doesn't! No more sorry. I told you before. Sorry is what you are after being punished. Not before. We'll do it some more, so you understand the difference."

   I stopped and started the tickling torture a good bit. When I finally took a long break, I shrugged at him.

   "You will now learn how to address me properly. Polite and with respect. My name is mommy. I, am taking the time and effort, to teach you how to please me. When you're done being corrected, or punished? When you regain the power of speech, you will thank me, politely and with great respect, for giving you discipline. Ready? Thank you for correcting me mommy. I appreciate it. Got that? I speak once. Now. I had to repeat my sorry speech just now. Also I need you to remember what I just said, so…"

   I went back to tickling the ever merciless shit out of him. Yanking the chain rough when he moved around.

   "Move around some more!"

   "You wanna make some noise! Let me help you!"

   When I finally quit, I let him calm down to mild sobs and slowing tears.

   "That's good enough to hear words. Now. Let's see what we might have learned just now. Curious to hear this…"

   I pulled the wet bandanna out, and stuck my hand to my ear.

   He sobbed it out.

   "Don't ever forget it. In the future, if you forget to thank me the right way for correction or punishment, as soon as you can speak a little bit? I'll repeat the punishment. If I don't think its sincere, we'll repeat it two or even three times. Or more. Who even knows. You, are going to learn what discipline is, slut. Don't ever forget this, either. Its not just about saying the right magic words, at the right time. It better sound sincere to me."

   I got a nice polite "thank you, for teaching me how to speak to you, mommy."

   "Not bad. Yes mommy. No mommy. Please mommy. Thank you mommy. Now. You demonstrate you understand how to show polite respect to me? I'll think about showing you a little respect, eventually. But this is a one way street, until I'm convinced."

   "Yes mommy."

   "Again, not bad. It'll do for a start. Rome wasn't built in a day. Now, we have something we can build on. Let's see. Would the little slut like to learn how to ask me what I want this time? Or do we need the bandanna back in for an hour straight."

   He begged mommy to show him how to ask for what I wanted, and he begged to please me.

   "There are no magic words. You beg mommy to tell you what she wants. You make sure mommy understands that you'll do absolutely anything. Then you do what you're told. You thank mommy properly after we're done. When your mouth is not prevented from speaking? Polite thank you mommy's, all the time. You'll learn your place in bed. Its pleasing me, period. When I feel like pleasing you? I will. Now. Let's get started. First of all, I need you to move around…"

   I let his ankles go back down and kept those long ankle cuffs on. I left his front and back long ones on his wrists, to keep his hands at his sides.

   "Kisses. Beg and ask with respect."

   When I told him it was time to kiss and lick slowly up my legs, it was fun. When I got him kneeling and his face in my twat, I told him what to do, and he did it enthusiastically. My twat was wet and tingling for a while tonight, and I wanted this so bad. I wiped my wet slit on his face like a tissue a couple times. When I was done, he thanked me several times for letting him please me. Kneeling in front of me with his slick face. Kissing my thighs and waiting for instructions.

   "Now. You were very good just now. You've pleased me. You learned how to speak with respect to your mommy. You asked me what I wanted, and you promised you would do anything. I tell you, and you do it. That? Is how a little slut pleases mommy. I'm a tiny bit happier with you now. Isn't this better than before? No screaming, no crying. No tears… you treat me with the respect I deserve, and you don't get severe punishment. Isn't that much better?"

   "Yes mommy. I like… pleasing you."

   "Now. That? Is a good little boy. But don't you ever forget who you're talking to. I'm not a whore from the bar. I expect strict obedience, and polite respect. And you never, tell me no. Ever. Now then. Mommy wants a little break, before having you fuck her well. Since you've treated me with some respect, and I'm now in a good mood? I'll treat you with a little respect. Think you can handle that, slut?"

   I got yes mommy, and thank you mommy. Delicious.

   "All right. Do some nice kisses mommy likes, while we get to have a nice talk for once."

   He gave kisses and little licks, and the stream of thank you mommy every so often was like candy to my ears.

   "Now. A little bit of respect back to a slut being nice and doing what they're supposed to be doing. I want to know something, and you're allowed to tell me the truth. There will be no penalty, and there's no right or wrong answer."

   "Anything, mommy."

   "You like my feet, don't you. Tell mommy the truth."

   I got a yes mommy and a little whimper or whine, I couldn't tell which.

   "Aw. What's the matter little boy. For once, you're not in any trouble. Its fine, dear. Explain it to mommy. Mommy wants to understand."

   He went through an explanation I had more or less heard before. He wasn't into feet, he just didn't like ugly feet. Particularly on a girl. And that I had, as I have heard out of his mouth before… cute feet.

   "Dear? Mommy will have a nice talk. No screaming and crying. Would you like to have a nice talk with mommy?"

   He did.

   "You like feet, dear. You like my feet. It makes me more attractive to you, doesn't it. I mean, if I had ugly feet, like some of the girls in the locker rooms do, trust me… I would be slightly less attractive undressed, right?"

   He admitted softly, that was right.

   "Why are you ashamed, dear? You stick your tongue halfway up my ass on a regular basis. There's actually very few places you don't have your mouth on me. Do you know why we're having this conversation?"

   He didn't.

   "Mommy likes her little kisses. You know that. I'm not into that, but I've been doing things to you. Having you doing them to me. I was going to make you kiss my toes, or maybe the bottom. We both know that I can make you do anything I want. Absolutely anything. I decided to be nice and see if you hated it."

   I asked why he was so embarrassed, and I dragged it out of him he wasn't one of those weirdos.

   "Oh. I know what you mean. You call that a… foot-fag, right? In psychology we call that a foot fetish. You? Do not have a foot fetish. Do you want to know how I know?"

   He did.

   "Hmm. A fetish of any kind, the fetish object has to be present, or the fetishist is not satisfied. Its a range. A strong foot fetish, would be you can't get it up without my feet there. Or, you can't get off without it. We both know that's not the case. You also don't qualify for a lesser case of it. I know. Because you finish real quick when I have shoes on. Now, lets talk about a very, very mild case of it. Which is what I think I'm seeing, okay?"

   Another ashamed little whispered yes mommy. So pitiful, like I was killing him. I can whip his naked ass to tears tied up, and this is worse on him. He was deeply ashamed.

   "About half the male population, freely reports on surveys, that a girl is slightly or more so attractive, in her socks or bare feet. Its… normal. Stuff less than 50 percent, is considered perfectly normal. I can prove it. Girls fuss over their feet. We do pedicures, we moisturize them. We choose shoes based on how cute we think we look. Some girls can wear open toed shoes and sandals. Some can't. We know this and talk about it with each other. We know we're flirting when we take our shoes off in front of a guy. Its all totally normal. Feel better?"

   He did.

   "All right. So kiss mommy's toes. Go on. I know I don't have ugly feet. Women tease each other about it, I'd have heard about it by now. There. That feels better, doesn't it? Little kisses are fine. I might have some fun with this in the shower, or after a bath. See? When you show mommy the proper respect, and talk to her the right way… and please her… good things can happen."

   I went right back to strict mommy though.

   "Warning you. Don't get used to this nice mommy shit. You? Have a long way to go, before you're out of the woods. Don't think that just because I squealed and wiped my soaking wet twat on your face a couple times, that you can manipulate me. You think that? I'll show you just how wrong you are. Don't you dare ever test me, until you're out of your little training camp. Not even when we're close, and we take a break so you don't have a mark on you, so I have a fresh canvas to paint with my scary whip. I need to discipline you while we're waiting on that? You'll find yourself face down and helpless like you were a little bit ago, screaming your head off on my bed. For hours, if I think you deserve it."

   He thanked me for being nice to him, and basically went on to say he wanted to please me more if I wanted.

   "I'm taking a break. I want entertained. Go get the bucket. Rinse it out, then bring it here."

   I enjoyed seeing him walking carefully in the long chain handcuffs on his ankles. I'm getting rotten enjoying this. When he came back with the bucket rinsed out, I waited.

   "Go get me one of the lazy whore's shot glasses. A little one. And the apricot brandy. And a glass of water, and an empty glass. Shoo."

   I had him kneel in front of me. I scooted to the edge of the couch, and smiled and held the bucket tilted towards me. I peed in it, giggling. I didn't really have to go. A little squirt or two. I took the little shot glass, smiling as I held it in front of his face. I tilted the bucket, so I could scoop out a shot glass of my pee. I then smiled as I held that in his face. I let him see me dumping it into the empty glass. I tilted some apricot brandy in, then topped it off with water. I swirled it with my finger, and handed it to him.

   "Do it. You don't need told what's expected of you right now."

   I watched him hesitate, then take a little sip.

   "Uh uh. Bottoms up, slut. And bottoms up? Is what you're going to be tomorrow, when I fuck you like I mean it. You? Will stick your naked little ass out, so I can fuck it harder. We're getting rid of this shame stuff. I want a shameless little slut, and I'm going to have one."

   He drank it.

   "Ask me respectfully for another."

   We did it again.

   "Still making a little bit of a face. Beg me for the third one."

   He drank the third one down without making a face. Then he remembered to thank me for teaching him a lesson.

   "Wow. Now? We're actually getting somewhere. Took a while to get started, but now we're making slow progress. That's how preseason camp goes. You start with one or two little things, then you build on them. Some days? Little to no progress. Other days. Big advancements. Now tomorrow? I think we'll gain by leaps and bounds. Once you see how hard I fuck you, and how painful and humiliating I can make it? You'll begin to understand what it means to be a dirty little slut, and be owned and used by me. Any way that I see fit. It would be polite, to tell me how much you're looking forward to it. I need to see you eager to get to where we need you to be for me."

   He told me how he couldn't wait. I smiled and rubbed his face and hair.

   "Progress tonight. I was worried we wouldn't have any for a while down in the basement. I know we'll have more tomorrow, I'm just sure of it. I'm actually proud of you. You're coming along nicely. I can't wait to report to my fellow mommies on my favorite website, how well my slut is doing. So quickly. Some of the other comments, some mommies have trouble getting things moving in the right direction. You started out slow, but… now we got the horse moving in the right direction. Its anonymous, in those comment sections."

   He thanked me for the comment, and he was glad he was pleasing me finally.

   "Don't let it go to your head. Nothing good will come from it. But don't worry, you'll learn some respect tomorrow. I guarantee it. I know you think you respect me. But, respect comes from fear. If you don't fear me? I don't truly have your respect. Not the way I need. I know, it's difficult for a girl to make a boy truly fear her. You can tell yourself, over my knee, crying your eyes out. You like it. Its a game. Its going to be okay. Thing is, its not going to be okay. Its not a game. I'm not kidding, when I say that when I'm done with you, you'll pucker up when I give you the look, and start taking my belt off. This little nice spot? Will vanish in the blink of an eye. You'll see."

   "You? Have time ahead of you. We're just getting started. You're going to spend days, wondering whether you have a nice day, like right now? Or spend all night down in the basement. Screaming and crying, like a little slut that needs to learn another lesson. There's little anonymous competitions. Which slut can scream the loudest. Which slut has the worst marks. If I don't get honorable mentions? I'm going to be pissed. And you'll pay for embarrassing me. With your ass."

   I drank another shot of apricot brandy. Yes, out of the same shot glass.

   "You think I'm not as dirty as you? This shot glass had piss in it. You cleaned it out for me, with your tongue, but its not been washed. Its fine. Your mouth? Was in my twat for a good long while. Your face? I wiped my come all over it more than once, like a towel after practice. Your tongue was up my ass. You kissed my toes. Now? Do a shot of brandy, and I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like I taught you. Like a slut. I want your filthy little mouth, and your dirty little tongue. Do it. Don't speak. Do."

   He drank his shot and we spent time kissing. My knees over his shoulders, slutty kissing. Wet as anything, doggy licks. The works. I taught him to suck tongues. I love slutty kissing when I'm in the mood, and I was definitely there. When it was time, I lowered my knees and told him what to do, every step of the way. I grabbed his collar and hissed in his ear every instruction. He wasn't allowed to come, he was to slow down or stop, way before. Pull out if necessary.

   I explained that even though I was going to get it rough, it was because I wanted it, and I would direct every inch of this. If he came before he was given permission? The bullwhip would explain it to him what he had done wrong. I ran the coiled leather threat over him. My god, I don't think I was fucked like this, ever. The website was right. Getting control over the slut coming was the goddamn key. He had it explained to him that his cock was mine, it would do what I wanted, every stroke, every inch. If he dared to come before I told him, that I would bullwhip the shit out of him.

   "You're in control of nothing. You'll fuck me like I say, or you'll pay for it. Strict obedience, slut."

   I scratched bullwhip welts on his chest with my fingernail, making him wince.

   "You're pleasing me. You have my whip marks all over you. You're my slut. Perform like it. Please mommy or I'll put more on you if you disobey."

   Oh god. The other mommies told me, you can get it hard just like you like, without it being a quickie. If he comes, beat the shit out of him so he learns. If he listens? You take what you want, and give nothing back. Its about me, not him right now. Be selfish. Don't ask, demand. Don't suggest. Issue orders. Own him. Demand your slut perform just like you want. If he doesn't make him scream for it. If he performs? He gets to come in the end. If I fail to get a single thing I desire? The fault is all mine. I decided I would take what I wanted.

   You want your toes sucked? Make it happen. You want raw-dogged in the ass, and he's squeamish about being in your butt? Make it happen, and wipe your hole with come leaking out on his face like a tissue. Piss on him if you want to. He's submissive, he wants first and foremost to please you, and he expects you to make him please you. Give him what he wants, by getting exactly what you want. I made him stick a finger up my ass. Fuck it.

   When it was finally time, I told him to fuck me like he meant it, because by god himself, I sure was going to do it to him tomorrow. And if he came, he was getting bull-whipped severely in the basement. I meant it by then, I would do it. When I finally had enough, I told him he was allowed to come, but it better be on my belly. I had him go off on my tan six pack.

   "The fuck you looking at it for, slut. Don't just smear it around licking it up. You suck it up and show me you like it, then lick what's left. Don't disappoint mommy now, not when you've been so good…"

   "Now thank me for allowing you to please me…"

   He did. I had more super slutty kissing, while my heart slowed. I presented him with my finger I dirtied in his ass, and made him clean it off. When I was done, I told him to go in the kitchen, and grab two of those giant pork steaks in the freezer, and start food for us. I was hungry. I told him how I wanted it. Fully cooked on low heat, as ironically he had taught me earlier. Now I ordered him to make it that way. Juicy fat, and butter wet. Or there would be an ass beating and the switch was right there.

   I watched him cooking. Watch his body language they told me. Watch and see how happy he is. He was. He's pleased his girl, he's all sixes and nines. Fuck other women and their vanilla bullshit they said. That grabbed my attention, my sentiments all along on the matter. What the fuck, if I have to tell him what I like, then its just not the right man for me. Retards, they said. Communication. Effective communication. You? Are dominant and want something. He? Is submissive and wants to please you. Tell him what you want, and order him to do it. He'll be tickled pink to finally be given his first, true path. Directly told what to do, to please you. He's a man, he wants told what you want. Men don't want a guessing game girly girls play, they hate that shit.

   You want fucked bad boy style? Instruct him to do it. He will! You want slow teasing and stopping and gentle penetration? Whatever you want.

   "You. Cut my food up. Large bites. I want you to stand behind me, and put them in my mouth with the fork. You can eat yours when I'm done, and I want to watch."

   "Hold my hair for me. Pony tail with one hand."

   "Get me another drink. This one's almost empty. Check it from now on when I have you do this. I don't want to run out."

   "Very good. Now lick mommy's lips clean. Your slutty little tongue is mommy's napkin."

   "Very good, slut. Now? You did a great job. Sit and eat. You'll need your stamina for tomorrow, you know that."

   God, this was the best. This was what I had to look forward to, when I felt like it when we had our own townhouse here in grad school? Holy shit. Why didn't all women do this, there was no other way to live. Holding my hair back in a handheld ponytail. Feeding me fork bites when I pointed. Scratching my back with the other hand. Heaven.

   All the advice made sense once I was this far into it.

   Up front? Be mean, be downright brutal. You never get a second chance to make a first impression. Introduce him to the kind of mommy you're going to be. Strict mommy? You beat that naked little ass, like you mean it. Don't take those early crocodile tears for enough, you give them something to cry for. Think child abuse, that's what you want. You don't avoid it, you aim for child abuse and go past it. Set that tone. Find a soundproof location. Or get privacy for this. If you have no other choice? Gag him thoroughly, turn the music up and get to it. Give him another taste the first thing you hear, that isn't exactly what you want to hear in the end. You do it right up front? The rest goes smoothly.

   Never make a threat you're not going to follow through on, completely and enthusiastically. All men, submissive or dominant, can smell a snow job a mile away. You threaten X, if Y happens? You better have meant what you said. You must do it. You're dominant. Learn to talk and control things like a man. After this is all done, if an issue crops up? Be direct. Hey, sit down. We have an issue. They'll sit down and hear it. Spell it out, and don't sugarcoat it or tap dance. You've issued a problem, now provide the solution. Your submissive will love it. He'll follow your solution.

   It requires some form of compromise? Think about it beforehand, and issue the compromise as the solution. Don't yell, just say it direct. If you've laid the proper groundwork in the training? This will go perfect.

   Never abuse this power to act like a prissy spoiled cunt. No whiny nagging voice. No girly gloating. You don't need it. They won't take you serious when you act like a girly girl. That's submissive spoiled whining. You, are the opposite. Confident, direct, sure of yourself. You discuss the problem by bringing it up, you inform them of your solution. Now eat your peas, dear.

   I was light years ahead of all the other mommies in this regard, but still. I wasn't learning to be dominant, I already naturally was. I wasn't learning how men communicate? I already knew and did it. It was the little stuff I loved.

   You can't torture him all night long, the humiliations are to extend the playtime. You like it, they like it. Any man that likes getting whipped? Will love some domination and humiliation. Serve up tons of it, in the training period. You can always back off after you're done training. The feeling out they described, before the big night it starts on was priceless. All the little things to start to do leading up to it, to make a smoother transition.

   I had legs up on the other girls wanting to be mommies in Domestic Discipline. Primer one, how to be dominant. Primer two. How to be dominant, even if you think you already are. Primer three, how to whip your man. I read them all, and other than a few nuggets, not much. Primer four? I already whip my man, what now? Hello, that was me.

   I got behind him his last several pieces I was watching him eat, and had him eat with no hands. We're in the early training period. I held his head and pointed at the next bite, and lowered his head to it. Whispered in his ear.

   "You will do anything, and I mean anything, I tell you."

   Yes mommy. Music to my ears.

   I licked his lips and face clean when he was done.

   "Okay. Its not late, but we still have shower to do, then I want time to play with you in the bedroom some before I fall asleep. When your done with the dishes, and wiping up? You can start on the shower. When I hear the water running, I'll be in. I'll be in our room. Oh. Blanket, pack the stuff up for mommy? Bring that to the bedroom before you start the shower."

   Another yes mommy.

   By the time I heard water running, I walked in.

   "You got everything ready? Great. Shut the water off, so that's all you need to do when we go back in. Bedroom. You? Are already naked. Me? Undressing."

   I sat and we went through the undressing ritual. I told him, I wanted to see how he did, and I would correct him on little things later. Just go through it, and let me see how he's doing. I'm glad I started on shower and dressing and undressing early. Nice introduction to what was to come, and he had some of the skills I wanted in the end going very well. Less work for the main training period. This allowed me to concentrate on slut training, and discipline and respectful behavior. Really, he didn't do bad at all. Few things to work on. I'll provide correction after shower and bath time.

   The shower was like undressing had gone. Really well, few tiny things I would adjust. I'll do that when the undressing corrections are gone over. I had him move soap around all over my body with his tongue. I had some toe kisses clean in the shower. I had him sit in front of me while I laid my hands and leaned against the wall, practicing for when I would be sore after preseason practice. I grabbed his face and peed on it, pulling him in. He cupped my ass cheeks and allowed me politely. I told him he was a good boy.

   After all my day spa bath pampering, I allowed him to get in with me, its really some of our favorite together time even outside of all this. Sitting behind him in the whirlpool jetted water, my legs tented over his, my feet between his legs. Like normal. I hugged him from behind, and we talked much more normal like. Bathtub time is normal time, and I told him.

   "Don't take too many liberties with how you speak to me, though. You're in training. Act like it. None of your sass mouth during any of our normal time, until you're wearing my tattoo."

   He asked how I wanted it.

   "You can drop the mommy in here. Keep the respect. I'm still your strict mommy, not some whore in the tub with you. Some of your smart-alack you're known for? Don't fool yourself into thinking I've got any objections to putting my switch across a wet, naked ass in here."

   "I promise, dear."

   "Hmm. Don't get me wrong. When we're done, I like your smart-alack. It doesn't go with training you, that's all. Keep it on hold, until you get reintroduced to nice mommy again. She loves it. Now, I'm being extra nice to you by giving us… let's call it normal time. Once you get into the bathtub and you're all done… working on me? That's my little gift to you. A lot of the… recommendations are not to have normal time like we have like this. The only normal time, well… normally? Is when other people are around. You really should be more appreciative you get this."

   "I am."

   I idly ran the washrag over him some, not really cleaning him. Kissing his shoulder.

   "And another thing, dear."

   "Yes?"

   "Don't go getting a swelled head just because I had you bang the shit out of me, and you got to hear me make noises licking me. It's not like you have a week to go. And, when we get out of this bath? We're naked, and we're still alone, and… you better be johnny on the spot with speaking to me correctly. Do you understand me?"

   "Yes dear."

   "All right. But, I'm starting to think you're treating this like some… advanced version of our usual game. Its not. We talked about this. I'm specifically supposed to… cure… that idea. Its actual discipline. Its going to be."

   "Anything you say dear."

   "Hmm. You say that now. Now… you, are going to start getting some extra chores. Starting tomorrow or the next day? You're doing all my laundry. I'm going to watch you like a hawk, that you clean and fold my stuff. And put it away neatly and correctly. I'm going to inspect it, like I do everything else. I'm going to be very critical. The laundry's not all. Now. You won't be doing laundry for the others. Just me. You're going to get corrected or punished once you're shown how to do a chore correctly."

   "Anything you say."

   "You keep saying that. We'll see. Now… I'm ready to get dried off. Hop to. When we're out of the water? You better be back on your best behavior. Or else. Move your ass."

   I love my drying off, like the rest of the shower and bath pampering and care. Lifting one foot at a time for drying off, then getting gone over to get dried off. I feel like some kind of celebrity or royalty.

   "All right. Get this all taken care of, and meet me in the bedroom."

   "I like the sound of that."

   "Like I keep telling you. We'll see."

   When he was done getting the towels and washrags and clothes into the washer, he came into the bedroom. Probably expecting another round of fucking mommy under my new directions. He was wrong. I was standing there with my bullwhip coiled up in my hand, and the stern, strict mommy face on.

   "No talking. You. On the bed."

   "Nope. Face down. Time we fixed something. I'm not getting off of this, now that I got it moving in the right direction. Nose in the bedclothes. Hands? At your sides. Feet together. You move? You'll get punished. We're having a little talk."

   I got the long handcuffs on him front and back, then snaked the ankle long handcuffs up through and back as I had done when I rendered him helpless downstairs and tickled him bad.

   "I'm adjusting your attitude. Right now. You do think this is another game. Well, I'm going to show you what kind of game you're playing. Comfy? I know you remember this position, because you spent some time downstairs like this. I remember telling you, that you'd be spending some time helpless on my bed like this. Right now? Is just such a time. Let me get your attention focused…"

   I grabbed the ankle chain tight just like I had done downstairs, and tickled his feet for about a minute straight.

   "Yeah. I got your attention now. We're going to work on some things. The dressing, the undressing. Pretty good, but… far from perfect. It will end up perfect. Same goes for the shower and the bath routine. I'm going to go through a list of what needs improvement. So… let's get started."

   I shoved a rag into his mouth, and fingered it in tight. I gave him several minutes of gag squealing and helpless tickle torture. Then, I related the first issue that wasn't perfect with the undressing. I went back to tickling the shit out of him again, for a little longer. Then? I explained the second issue. By the time I was done with the short laundry list of what needed improvement, it was much longer each time. Screaming and crying were high pitched and getting severe.

   Then I moved onto the shower improvements, and the length of each tickle torture grew in length and severity. By the time I started on the bath care tips, it had grown to a length that was screaming and crying hysterically. By the time I finished the last bath care tip, it was fairly lengthy. I got down and tapped his cheek, smiled, and looked at him with my smug mommy look.

   "This isn't a game, slut. Its dead serious. Because you need to understand that? You'll spend some more time here. I'm actually enjoying this. I get the reaction I need to get, and I don't have to muscle you around over my lap, and I don't have to give my arm and shoulder a workout. Get comfy. You're going to be here a while, making sure I got your attention to keep working on everything I just went over."

   I tickle tortured him severely for a while, then left him there to cry it out. I sat on a chair, and smiled and watched.

   "Got the picture yet? And remember, tomorrow. I'm going to fuck you, like you've never been fucked in your life before. Its going to be painful. Its going to be humiliating to say the very least. And? Its going to take quite a while. Now. Just so we understand each other…"

   I grabbed his ankle chains, yanked him roughly to immobilize him and repeated the tickle torture for even longer. I left him a hot screaming and crying mess. When he recovered minimally, I got down in his face again.

   "We'll do what we're doing right now? Nightly. The girls being here, will not save your worthless ass. I'll just turn the music up, and go to town. Shit needs improvement, and it better improve immediately. The next one of these? Is going to be much longer. And another polite suggestion, too, you little slut. You better watch your fucking mouth and that attitude, when we're in the bathtub."

   I smacked him hard across his helpless face, then several more times. Forehand, backhand, repetitively.

   "Don't you ever, yes dear me, and yeah yeah me like you just did. Ever. I'll smack the taste right out of your dirty little mouth, and I'll beat the ever loving shit right out of you for it. Now. I'm going to take this rag out of your slutty little mouth, and I better be impressed. Not just with the words? With the fucking tone you use. You think I'm playing around with you. I'm not. You're about to figure that out. Tomorrow. After I'm done fucking you the way I intend to? We'll just see how your attitude improves."

   I took the rag out, and he sniffled out a thank you for correcting him.

   I pasted him twice more across the helpless face.

   "Again!"

   We went through this routine several times, and I watched his face grow more and more… pucker-y. Each hard face smacking, and the ruthless "Again!", slowly produced the effect I was looking for. He was finally puckering into the bed clothes, and mumbling his thank you mommy for correcting me.

   "Now. That's a little bit more like it. That needs improvement, too."

   I shoved the rag back into his mouth. Real hard. Then I tickled the shit out of him for quite some time. When I took the rag out of his mouth, I pasted the hardest slap yet on him.

   "Again!"

   I finally got the teary repeat I was looking for.

   "All right. Now? You got the right idea. See that you remember this, and that's how you address me. In the bath or not. I'm not putting up with this leftover nice mommy shit much longer. I'll fuck your shit up for it. So I'm not going to ask you if we're clear on this? I know we're crystal clear."

   I undid his ankle chain from drawn up, and let his feet down. I took the back handcuff long chain out. He was left with long ankle handcuffs and the long handcuffs in the front.

   "Better get some sleep, slut. Its going to be a long fucking day tomorrow. Literally. And I can't wait to see your face after I'm done with you."

   I got ready for bed. When I got in, I shoved him out of bed and he almost hit the floor before he recovered.

   "Sleep on the floor, slut. You don't talk to your mommy right, you don't sleep with her. You think you're going to give me yes dear and yeah yeah attitude? You better think again."

   I went and got another regular pair of handcuffs. I cuffed his front wrist handcuff's long chain, to a foot post of the bed. As I covered up and shut the light by the bed off, I told him quite matter of fact, after I heard nothing in the dark for a while.

   "You have to go to the bathroom? You have to wake me up. I'll smack you around some more for bothering me and waking me up. Count on it. But… if you piss the floor? I'll fuck you up so much worse. Sweet dreams, smart ass. Cry yourself to sleep, for all I care right now."

   I fell asleep? Holding my mouth, trying not to laugh. I heard little sobbing noises here and there, then nothing but deep breathing. I wasn't following a script or anything, but a number of descriptions of how to cure "its just another sexy game" demeanor abounded. Actually, it was one of the more popular topics on the Mommy website I liked best. I felt rotten, but can I lie? Actually having a goddamn ball here.

   Where is my golden whip award for this performance.

   When I woke up, it took me a minute or two to remember my performance the night prior. I ever so slowly pulled the covers around and rotated myself so I was laying with my head off the foot of the bed almost, chin on hands, watching him sleep. I had gotten up in the middle of the night and turned the air conditioning down real low. He was curled up in his long chain handcuffs. He fell asleep trying to get comfortable shackled to the bed. With no pillow or blanket. After having been smacked around and kicked out of bed and chained in his position on the floor.

   It was early. Barely sunrise yet. I wanted him up. I had gone to bed early after smacking him around and torturing him for his small errors. I realized, that's what it had been. Torture. I was getting better with the idea of calling it what it was. I smiled like a little girl who was having fun dipping the boy's hair in the inkwell, and not the more usual other way around. Because I was. Male dom female sub Domestic Discipline was the entirely more popular setup. But, female dom male sub was hardly unheard of. While technically a minority, it was hardly tiny.

   I wanted him awake, and couldn't bring myself to yell or kick him or throw shoes at him. I wanted to see his face waking up, realizing how he had spent the night. Coming to the realization as he shook and blinked sleep away, that he was in chains. And see my smiling face peering down at him. I took the lash end of my bullwhip and dragged the lash across his face several times. Watching him twitch, then rub at it, and finally start awake. I continued doing it after his eyes opened and registered the situation, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

   "Wake-y, wake-y… asshole."

   "And what was that little look I just saw, hmm?"

   He dropped the look, but it was too late. I had seen it.

   "Give me that look again. I dare you."

   His face fell and he resigned himself to what everything was.

   "I said. Give me that look again. What. Scared to give it to me? What are you afraid of."

   He wasn't taking the bait. The website warned of male anger erupting when you increased the pressure. No matter how many times you explained beforehand, and during the start of it, that it was no game? It not being a game, was a game in and of itself. To the male. You had to combat that. You had to break that down for them.

   I'm light years ahead of the other mommies, though. Psychology degree I'm working on. Its not infallible, but… it gives me a huge grounding to work from.

   "What. Do you suddenly have a problem, with a girl having power over you? Pffft. You love it. From the moment we met, you made jokes about it. The first night we slept together? Get real. You love a girl having power over you. The fact is? The more power a girl has over you, in every way possible? The more turned on you get. You're embarrassed right now, and that's a turn on for you too. I'm looking at your morning cock in your boxers, and you can't hide your wood. You? Are helpless right now, and you love it. Just admit it."

   "Don't bother to admit it to me, admit it to yourself. Things will go easier for you, once you do. Its going to happen, sooner or later. You're going to admit that you like it. That there's nothing you can do about your helpless situation. And that it makes you rock hard, and I know it."

   I smiled down, smug.

   I spit on him. I just let it fall on his face, I didn't propel it at him with any kind of fury.

   "Go on. Get piss-y about it. You know, that I'll fuck you up for it. And… some part of you knows it, and likes it. The problem is, you haven't admitted it yet. Not to me, I already know. You haven't admitted it to yourself. And when you do? You're going to bawl and cry like a little baby. You're ashamed of that. And once you bawl and cry like a little bitch? You can get past it. When that happens, whenever it is… I'll be there. I'll hold you. I'll kiss you. I'll tell you it's all alright. You'll beg my forgiveness, that you fought me on it. I'll grant you that forgiveness, that you so desperately crave. That will be our breakthrough moment. You'll completely submit to me. Totally. Your body. Your will. Your life. You'll finally give it to me, I'll take it. I won't hurt you for it. I'll cherish it. And then we can finish this, and we'll move on. But… for the rest of our days? We'll both know, forever. What we both are. How we work together, from then on. Let me help you right now…"

   I spit on him again.

   "You don't need to go through your life, ashamed of what you are. Forever craving being submissive to a strong girl. Wanting one. Desiring one. Craving one. And forever ashamed of it. Just admit it, and it will get immediately better. We'll get through this, and march off into the sunset together. You? Will get what you want, forever. I? Will give it to you. Forever. You didn't ask me for this, for fun. That's just what you tell yourself. Just do it. I won't tell anyone. You know that. I can't. Its not like you're keeping some great secret. I know it, I've known it since our third date. What went on. Out in the middle of nowhere, I challenged you and you answered it. Tie me up and whip me. I like it. Who are you kidding, holding back? Me? I know it sure as Christ made little green apples. You? You know what fantasies run through your mind, since you were young. Just get it over with already."

   "When you finally break down, and cry? I'll know that's what it is. It'll be totally different from when I make you cry from physical pain. Pain you like me inflicting on you, by the way. I'm going to wear you down, and get that. And then, you'll completely belong to me. I won't use it against you. If I was going to? I already would have. But… I'm not stopping, until that breakthrough moment. You asked me for it. You begged me for it. I tried to talk you out of it? Oh no, make me. Force me. What the fuck do you really think you were asking for, anyways. You were begging me, to force you to submit to me. Just do it. Submit. Give me the complete submission, that I demand? And it will all be over. Oh, the pain and the torture will continue for a little while, but… the real torture? Is you not admitting to yourself how things really are."

   "Once you do that? Give yourself to me like that. And you see that I accept you for it. And you accept yourself. As you really are. You… will finally be free."

   I stood up, and stretched and yawned. Walked around him chained up at the foot of the bed. I looked down at him.

   "We? Are going to have our morning workout. Now. That, is what I decided right now. That? Is what we'll do. Do I have to hurt you, to make that happen? Or… will you just go with it. Like you've been doing. If you think, that I'm quitting, before I set you free? Because X number of weeks went by… you're fucking crazier than I am. I'm going to have you. For my own. Me, knowing who I am. You? Finally admitting what you are. And what we are. You… can't win this. Oh, you can run away. Run away from me, and this challenge. But, can you run away from yourself and who you are? No."

   I just looked him straight in the eye, looking down at him in chains on my bedroom floor.

   "Ask me. I'll unlock them right now. You? Can go. Will you get away, from how terribly rough I'm going to fuck you today? Yes. You can. But… will you get away from yourself? Never. Use that big brain you have, mister wizard. Take score. You? Have lusted after… for lack of a better word, mind you. An Olympic babe. Here I am. You know what you are, what your compulsion wants. I have the same compulsion. I want to give it to you. The TV screen speaks to you, little slut. The Olympics girl wants you. Just take me."

   He looked at me like I'm from mars.

   "Oh. That's right. I forgot. You can't take me. I have to make you. I have to force you. That's what you asked for. Begged me. I told you, you have to submit to me. You made it a condition, that there was no way out. That it would make it… hotter for you. So, if you wanna scream a little more? Or a lot more, actually. Fine by me."

   I stood over him, and he looked down.

   "There's my answer…"

   I squatted down and grabbed his ankles, and dragged him back. His long wrist handcuff chain stretched slowly out, then grew taut. The regular handcuffs, held the long chain to the bed post. He struggled, and I laughed.

   "You're so fucked, on so many different levels, and don't even realize it."

   I sat down, holding his ankles while he struggled. He couldn't possibly get away. I laughed. I had stretched him out. I had another pair of regular handcuffs in my hand, and he hadn't realized it. I clicked them around his ankles. I held the little chain. I tied a piece of the long, soft cotton rope to them, then tied the rope to the foot of my desk. He was now stretched out and done for.

   "I decided. We? Are going for the morning workout. Are you joining me willingly? Or… the other way. Your choice."

   "I'll go! I'll go!"

   "Uh uh. Not good enough, slut. You? Need to beg to go with mommy. You wanna watch mommy work up a sweat? See mommy's legs get a pump? Beg. Make me believe you really wanna see it. Or I'll leave you here. You can stay here, helpless. I'll be back, when I'm back."

   "Take me with you…"

   Strict mommy came back quick.

   "Is that how you talk to me? You speak to me, with polite respect, or I swear to god…"

   It came out quick.

   "Please take me with you, mommy. Please. I'm begging. Don't leave me here. Please…"

   I knelt down, smiling. I reached up his boxers, all chained up and stretched out. I grabbed his balls and seized him right above the testicles, then firmed up my quite substantial grip.

   "Well? Dress me, slut."

   I got dressed after I unlocked what kept him from it. He dressed me a little slower than normal. Little OCD mistakes, but fewer than the last time. I kept silent track.

   "Let's go…"

   I walked downstairs. We went out front, and stretched out. We were about to run, when I sent him to go get Lorna. I pointed out the door down the way. Lorna, was the girl that had wanted to go running with us, and I had ended up telling her I would break her hand. He was nervous. I insisted. I ended up making, and ordering him to go get her. I actually lifted up my own girl's soccer team practice T shirt, 2XL men's size. I reached down and grabbed him by the balls through my own soccer practice shorts he was wearing, and hissed at him.

   "I said? Go… and get her. What part of a goddamn order, don't you get? Move!"

   I put my leg up on the cement wall, and bent my head down to stretch. I pointed…

   I watched him, reluctantly, suspecting a trap. He knocked on the door I indicated, and a girl answered in a T shirt and seemingly nothing else. He spoke to her, gesticulating. She disappeared, and another girl was out. Taller. Blonder. One bare foot on top of the other while talking briefly.

   She disappeared inside, and reappeared quickly.

   I watched her stretch out. He did too. He didn't stare, he was too nervous to, but… he noticed. I got in his ear on the side.

   "I want you to look, you retard. Enjoy your show…"

   Lorna asked how many laps around the housing plan. I smiled.

   "First one to quit? Is a twat. I wanna work up a sweat."

   She calculated the mild challenge.

   "You're on…"

   We ran. Every couple laps we tried to pass each other. He ran with us. We were both in front of him and couldn't get away. He was a long distance runner, he just paced us. I already knew he could do this longer than us, so eventually Lorna and me were competing. I guess I won. Lorna finally slowed. We had a final sprint lap, and she admitted she was a twat, audibly.

   She panted and heaved, hands on her knees. Gasping for breath. I wasn't far behind, and an onlooker would think we had been equal. We all three sat laughing on the front wall, heaving for air.

   "Lorna? Its been fun."

   Me and him went back in.

   "You. Come upstairs."

   He followed.

   I had my undressing ritual. When I had him kneeling and groveling at my feet and I was sitting on the bed again, I snapped at him.

   "Hey!"

   I got a meek yes mommy.

   "I have plans for you. Get in the bathroom. Now."

   He went.

   I came in.

   "We're not showering. Not yet."

   "What do you want me to do?"

   I smiled.

   "Good answer. I want you to go get your bucket. Bring it in here."

   He left to fulfill my request. When he got back, I had a plastic drink bottle, a big one. The kind with a screw on lid and a built in straw. I made him fill up the bucket with hot water with lots of soap, then fill up the drink bottle with the hot soapy water. He was already naked from the undressing ritual.

   "I want you on your hands and knees."

   He did it, sightly reluctantly.

   "I want you to stay still…"

   I badgered him until I put the built in straw, to his ass. I squeezed the big bottle of hot, soapy water. When he started complaining, I snapped my fingers and pointed to my coiled up bullwhip laying nearby.

   "Do you see that? You better do what you're told. My advice."

   He closed his eyes and pouted, as I squeezed the bottle of hot, soapy water. It squirted up his butt. I giggled. He whined, and wanted to know what I was doing.

   "I'm doing what I want! I want you? To have a clean rear end, slut. Look. You're going to get fucked in the ass. I want you to have a clean ass."

   I badgered him until he filled up my squirt bottle a couple more times. I squirted each bottle of hot soapy water? Up his ass. He looked like he wanted to cry. Kneeling in the shower. I produced a wooden ball on a string. I shushed his objections, and plopped it in his ass. I stood him up and when he danced around, I had him sit on the commode. Right before I made him sit on the throne, I pulled the string and the ball popped out of his ass. He exploded, and he looked like he was sobbing.

   "Again…"

   I made him go through this ritual, several times. He looked up at me as if he wanted to cry, but never actually had tears.

   "Get in the bedroom, slut. Kneel at the foot of the bed."

   He was waiting for me.

   "Slut. Bring mommy? Her toy…"

   He puckered up, but he brought it. I made him put it on me. I showed him how to have me step into it. I made him pull the straps up over my thigh muscles, then tighten them a belt buckle's worth, to hold the straps up and on tight.

   I sat him down on the bed, and stood in front of him. I was smiling.

   "What…"

   "You know what."

   He begged me not to make him do this. He pleaded and begged for me not to do it. He wasn't in tears, but he was close.

   "Please. Don't. Please…"

   I rubbed his head.

   "I'm fucking you. I'm fucking you hard. If you want me to use the bullwhip on you, take you down the basement… give you twenty, or even thirty hard cracks? You know I will. I'm going to make you. There's no way out. Hey. Let's compare cocks. Mine? Is a little bigger. Admit it. Mommy's is bigger."

   I was standing over him, and he was sitting on the bed.

   I grabbed his head, and turned it to me. It made his head turn to the big rubber jelly dick.

   "Look at it. I? Am going to make you do this."

   "Please. Please don't. I'll do… anything else. Please."

   "Slut! I'll crack your ass with my bullwhip? You'll do anything else anyways. I know it? You know it. Now… kneel in front of mommy. Sluts kneel."

   He started to kneel.

   "Now. Give me a kiss."

   He started to get up, and I smiled as I put gentle pressure on him to stay on his knees.

   "I… don't understand. You said…"

   I backhanded him across the mouth. Hard. He looked shocked, even more shocked than when I smacked him around the night before.

   "I think? You understand just fine. Slut. Give me a kiss, and do it now. Right now. Without moving. Or I'll put the back of my hand across your face again, twice as hard. You, will fucking kiss me. Now!"

   "I don't understand…"

   I smiled.

   "Oh. I think? You do…"

   I grabbed his head with both of my palms, and brought his mouth to my jelly toy.

   "Kiss."

   He puckered up. He leaned into my thighs, and hugged them. He begged me not to. I backhanded him across the mouth again, probably twice as hard.

   I grabbed his head with both of my palms.

   "You? Will kiss me. Right there, right now. Or? I'm tired of smacking you around. I'll take you in the basement and lash the ever loving shit out of your slutty little ass. Hard. Like 20 or 30 times. And then? You'll kiss me anyways. So…"

   He looked shocked, and opened his mouth slowly. He put his mouth on the tip. He moved it around a little.

   "Let me help you with that…"

   I started moving his mouth around. He puckered up some, but he did it. Then I smiled more broadly. I grabbed the back of his head. I gave a little shove, and he gagged.

   He looked up at me. He about teared up. He was about to cry.

   "Please baby, please don't do this."

   I pasted the shit out of his mouth this time.

   "Don't you ever call me baby. Not once. Mommy. Say it."

   "Please mommy…"

   I backhanded him again. Harder. He held his hand over his mouth, shocked. I grabbed the back of his head and shoved.

   "Get your mouth on it. I'm tired of fucking around…"

   I held his head. He was obviously afraid of me continuing to smack him in the face any more. When I started pulling the back of his head harder, he gagged slightly. He looked up. I smiled down at him.

   "Oh yeah… that's right…"

   He looked up at me, and it was somewhat pitifully. I gathered his shoulders in my hands, and stepped forwards. I began to put my knees on the bed. His head pinned by the toy in his mouth. The gagging sound increased. He put his hands on the tops of my thighs, and pushed. I pulled on his head to counteract this. He slapped my muscular thighs. I smiled down at him. I grabbed his head, to instruct him.

   "Look. You? Are about to get into very big trouble. For saying no. For not doing what I want. Do you want that?"

   He knew what that meant. It means going over my knee, and getting the belt, the wooden paddle, both too many times to count. It meant screaming his head off.

   "All right. If you don't want to get into big trouble then…"

   "I don't!"

   "All right. I'll give you one chance. That's it. You don't take it? I'll whip the ever loving shit out of you. I swear."

   He puckered up. He knew what whip the ever loving shit out of him meant. His ass had felt it.

   He whispered it.

   "Anything…"

   "Anything at all?"

   "Anything. I promise."

   "Okay. I have a toy. I want to put it in your mouth. You let me put the toy there, I wont whip you."

   He paused, then nodded. Hesitantly.

   I had a short plastic tube. I said "open", and had him hold it in his mouth. He did. The plastic tube though, it had thin cord coming out of the sides. I shushed him.

   "Shh…"

   As I knotted the cord behind his head, he looked up at me quizzically. I smiled. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled. Harder.

   My toy hit the back of his throat, and he gagged. Hard. I laughed and pulled quite hard and held. My toy went down his throat, and he made a retching sound and gagged. I held him while he pushed and smacked at my muscular thighs, to no effect. I held it in for several seconds, before retracting. My toy pulled back out of the plastic tube in his mouth. My toy was called a tube gag. I could fuck the tube gag, and fuck his throat. He couldn't bite me.

   I took handcuffs and over his considerable protests, I cuffed his wrists tight behind his back. I fucked his throat, using the tube gag as the vehicle for doing it. Halfway through it all, I shoved his shoulders back onto the bed, and mounted him. More accurately? I mounted his face. I fucked his face, I fucked his throat. When his shoulders went back on the bed? I put my weight on top of him. I laid on top of his face, and fucked his tube gagged mouth.

   I had clicked his hands into handcuffs, and now that I was done with him he lay there. Drooling out of the tube gag, looking around fearfully to make sure he wasn't about to be raped again. But I was smiling at him, and he knew he was.

   "I just fucked your mouth, and I'm about to fuck your ass. Hard. We discussed this. You? Are going to beg me. Say it."

   He puckered his lower lip, like a little child. He knew he was within my power. I slowly untied the cord that turned the simple plastic tube into a throat fucking torture device. He knew what he was supposed to say. He squealed, and he sobbed it out.

   "Please fuck me like you mean it…"

   "Get your slutty little ass up on the bed."

   He did, while looking at me somewhat fearfully. I took the handcuffs off, and put the long handcuffs on in the front. I put the long handcuffs on his ankles. I hissed at him.

   "Get in your position…"

   He put his palms on the bed, and his ass in the air. I ordered him to back up, and he reluctantly scooted back to me. He had been told what to say, and he surprised me by saying it. Half talking, half sobbing.

   "Mommy? Please lube me up. Please don't hurt me. I'll be good for you. I promise. Please… I'll do anything you say."

   He gasped when I grabbed him and yanked his body in front of mine forcefully. I planted and positioned him where I wanted him. Then he really surprised me, by burying his face in the bed, and starting to sob.

   "Please don't hurt me. Please…"

   I had promised to have him lube me up, but I did it myself. I squirted lube all down it, and wiped it up and down slowly on his quivering little rabbit hole, while holding his marked up ass cheeks apart. It spread the lube around the soft jelly toy I wore strapped to the front of me. It built up a nice little ring of lube around it. Then I grabbed his hips nice and tight.

   "Too late for that, slut."

   He sobbed into the bedclothes, and I shoved the tip in. I grasped his hips firmly, pulling steadily and forcing. My jelly rod slid into his ass, and I forced it to go. I didn't so much as thrust in as I did pull him back by the hips onto it, in one surprisingly smooth yet very definitive motion. He exploded into tears and quiet little sobs. I met the end of my first authoritative stroke, and held him there. I felt the shuddering as he fully realized it had been done, and would continue to be done more. I held him there briefly, and rolled my hips around a little. A little gasp came out of him in between shudders, as the rolling let the jelly tip find that last tiny bit of poor little rabbit hole, and open it up.

   I could practically hear tears falling onto my bedclothes. When I was satisfied, I pushed him off to barely the tip remaining, then without stopping pulled his hips firmly back and rolled my hips at the end. I didn't waste time, and started going faster.

   "Say it…"

   He sobbed it out.

   "Please… fuck me, like you mean it…"

   "Again."

   He repeated it, and I made him repeat it over and over, slowly. While I quickly brought speed and power up. It was now a fast, deep, hard fuck. I still rolled my hips around at the end of a stroke. When I finally stopped the hip rolling at the end of strokes, it became the full on bang. I laughed, a deep throat-ed husky thing I barely recognized coming out of my own mouth, as I dribbled and bounced his well marked up ass cheeks off of my hips. I could hear a little squishy noise once in a while. Some intermingled air and lube going under pressure, from my jelly rubber piston, moving in a lubricated rabbit hole. No longer a little rabbit hole. A bigger bunny had forced her way down and in.

   I was warm and tingly, the now familiar rush spreading over me. No vibrating for this first one of these today for him. No enjoyment whatsoever. This wasn't sex, this was a somewhat violent and forcible rape. It was about power, control, and submission. Deliberately more painful and humiliating than it needed to be. Making the victim ask for it to begin, then ask for it harder. My jelly rubber can never let me feel the little rabbit hole grip me like a tight hand job, and I can never really come and inject an actual payload. So there's no other sexual point to what I'm doing, when I leave the vibrator off like I'm doing now. There's nothing left, but the power and control. The sexual act is the vehicle. My jelly rubber cock, is the baseball bat. The baseball bat is hurting someone. No one could claim any sort of a game of baseball was being played.

   Anyone that wants to fully comprehend forced rape, should go through this. Its one thing to learn to say the words, rape is not sex, rape is about power and control, and the sex act is just the vehicle. Words. Learned and parroted until its the correct answer in a psychology class on rape. But experiencing and enduring this, what I was forcing him to go through mercilessly. That would drive the point home crystal clear. It would drive the point into their head up through their ass to reach their brain. Then, if the psychology student went on to later become an actual rape counselor? They would truly understand. They would not just be checking items off of a list, telling the victim the things they had been taught to say.

   Then, the victim would hear it in their voice, and see it on their face, that they did understand. No one ever talks about why some rape counselors are better than others. Why they're able to connect with the victims, and the victims don't accuse them of just going through the motions of their counseling sessions. But deep down, we all know why. We just don't admit it openly.

   We've had fun little pretend rapes from our first night we spent together. We never called it that before, but its what it was. When I asked him if he had liked being tied up, and he admitted it. But it was pretend. This? Was very real. I'm establishing my complete power and control over him, and he's being forced to utterly submit to me. He'll understand now, that I actually own him. Its no longer his body, its mine. To do with as I please. I'm enjoying this, and the more squeals and whines and tears, the better. I put my foot up on the bed, and pulled his ass onto me harder, with more authority. Thumps instead of strokes. I smacked his ass cheek hard several times, and I got an instant increase in sobbing intensity.

   I have two strong hands, and one had lube wiped on it. The other is still dry. I reached down and around, to check his interest meter with my dry hand. Fully hard and flopping around. I felt the tip, and it was moist. He was enjoying it. I spit on his back, then twice more. It landed low on his back. In the little ocean part of his ink. I realized that was where my hurricane symbol tattoo would go. My license plate for my dirt bike. Right where it should be, on the back end. I rubbed my hand with some lube on the inside around in my spit. I reached around and pulled a couple slow tugs, and felt him shudder and wiggle, then I stopped.

   "That thing can't lie to mommy. You love it."

   I smacked his marked up ass cheeks, hard and fast several times, to punctuate anything I said now.

   "Only a dirty little slut would enjoy this, and you know it."

   "Mommy already knows. That her little boy, that misbehaves? Is a dirty, little, slut."

   "Right here. Right now. Let me hear you admit it. I am mommy's dirty, little, slut."

   He sobbed it out.

   As with anything I said right now, he got several hard fast smacks that brought little sobs.

   "Again. More feeling."

   "Again. Make me believe you mean it."

   "Again!"

   I picked up my thick leather belt, and started giving him several fast hard smacks with that, instead of my hand. He repeated it, and each time it sounded more genuine. By the time I was satisfied, he was crying and sobbing more from knowing he was a dirty little slut now, than from any real pain I was inflicting on him.

   When a little while later, I gave him a couple slow tugs on his hard cock… he begged to come. I instantly picked up my belt, and cracked his ass cheeks as hard and as fast as I possibly could. I switched hands to evenly distribute it across both cheeks.

   "You come when I say. It will be my idea. Not yours."

   I got a meek little sobbed out yes mommy. Several seconds later, I belted his ass again for a little while, before stopping.

   "I corrected you. That was for not thanking me properly."

   He sobbed out the correct words. Ritual.

   "Its not like it was, when we started. I can feel it. All warm, and lubed up. I can feel your little ass relaxing. Opening up. Taking it."

   "The more you relax, the easier it will be. The less it will hurt. The more you start to enjoy it."

   "I'm going to do this for a long time. I'm going to fuck you in any room I feel like it. I'm going to bend you over anything I feel like. I'm going to keep fucking you like I mean it, until you like it."

   "This, is submitting to me. If you scream, if you resist the slightest bit. If you so much as hesitate when I put one finger on your shoulder to bend you over something? You'll get mommy's belt on your ass, like never before. Then? I'll go right back to raping you, over and over. Again, and again. Until I know you like it. When I finally believe you love it? You'll finally get to come. You'll be a very sore, very horny, dirty little slut until then."

   "I'm going to take little breaks, between rapes all day. I'm going to put my jeans over my favorite little toy in your ass right now. I'm going to order you over something, and let you feel me unzipping and taking it out, then bang the hell out of your loosened up ass, yet again."

   "I'll fuck you like this? Any time I feel like it. As long and as hard as I feel like it. You'll love it, and you'll thank me sincerely every time."

   "When I wake up in the middle of the night, and you feel me grab you and I start, you'll let me, and you'll take it like a dirty little slut should. You'll spread those legs nice and wide, and hold your dirty little ass open for me, to help. You'll whisper to me, to give it to you like I mean it, and I will."

   "A couple weeks from now, when I finally quit doing it? You'll miss it. You'll beg me to do it again. I won't. You'll crave it. When my dressing, my undressing, my shower, my bath care… all finally perfect, with not the slightest correction needed? Only then will you get it again. Only then? Will I finally give it to you like the first time. Nice. Slow. Gentle. Loving. Warm and compassionate."

   "And that? Is your goal. To please me. Its not enough you do what I say, and I take what I want. You'll love anything I do after that. Then? You'll be my own, personal, slut. We'll heal all your marks up, and there will be plenty of them, you can count on it. Because you're going to get corrected, and punished? More and more, until I believe you know that you really are my naughty little dirt bike. That I own you, every bit of you. That you're my own personal property, and that you love it. And you're proud to be owned by me."

   "During that time your marks are healing up? Getting ready for our little trip. I'll finally begin to be sweet and nice in bed again. More and more. You'll have earned it, and you'll treasure it. You'll spend that long drive there? Like a little boy that misbehaved, and knows what he's going to get, when the rides over. You'll feel what my bullwhip tastes like, if I'm ever angry. After that? You'll know exactly what its like to be scared of me. You'll know that if I ever have to threaten you with it? What will happen."

   "But that's later. Right now, today? You're getting your first, real taste of understanding that I own you, and that I have complete power and control over you. In every way. When we sit in the hot tub after that? I'll hear it in your voice. When we have our normal time in the bath, or when we aren't alone, when you drop the mommy… the respect you'll have for a strict mommy, will be obvious. If you just relax and let this happen? It will me much easier on you. Just a polite suggestion."

   "Another polite suggestion? Relax, and take slow, deep, even breaths through this. Crying is short erratic breathing. It will help you."

   "What do they teach girls to say these days? Oh yeah… my body, my rules. They say it all snotty. You begged me to take you. You begged me to allow you to submit completely to me. Its my body my rules all right… mine. Your body? Is mine now. I'll make all the rules now. You'll follow them. I demand strict obedience from you, and I'll get it."

   "I'm going to keep your naked little ass all marked up. So anytime I smack it with even my hand? I get the tears I like to lick off of your face so much. I get hot and wet when you whine and squeal and cry, so my advice to you? Is you better not ask for any extra. I'll be all too happy to give you plenty. Long before your little slut preseason training camp is over? You'll tear up when mommy starts to take her belt off. Believe me. You just wait, till I get my new belt, the one with my name on it. Your poor little ass cheeks are going to permanently wear my name, until we get close to being done. I promise you."

   As I pounded and banged him at the end, I whispered in his ear.

   "And don't go thinking I forgot about you telling me no. I didn't forget. Little boys that tell mommy no, need to learn not to. I can't allow that."

   I wanted a big finish, so I got my foot back up and slid my hand up from below and into his collar. I firmly pulled his face down onto the bed.

   "Ass up! Face down! Yeah, that's right. Knees more apart. I said more! Like that. Just like that."

   When I was finally done, I rolled my hips around obscenely, and laughed. I laughed until I stopped, and stayed still. Pulling him onto it as hard as I could. Then I gave a final few slow hip rolls, paused, and pushed him off of my jelly toy as slow as I could. I heard him sigh and shudder when I was finally out, and he waited to see if there was more. Every time I teased him by touching the tip to his hole, he flinched less and less. I gave him one last, excruciatingly slow full stroke in, a few little hip rolls, then the last slow reverse stroke sliding out.

   I whispered in his ear that we were done for now, and did he have anything to tell mommy. I got the slow, sobbing thank you. He told me he loved it. When I thought he was done, he surprised me after the last pause by adding a sweet little shy and embarrassed please fuck me more.

   "I was going to anyways."

   I told him he could get out of his position. Like a real rape victim, all the fight and spunk was out of him now. He was humiliated and embarrassed, just like I wanted. The double whammy for him of course, was that it hadn't been done by a stranger. It had been done by his closest loved one. He had no where else to go, for some love and understanding and tenderness. Except from me. The person who did it to him.

   I wouldn't let him hide his badly blushed face, and I sweetly kissed it and kissed his little tears he was still making. I shushed him, and told him it was okay now, that it was all over for a little while. He asked for permission to get hugs and kisses, to make up. I granted it. I hugged him into my arms, and got close with him. I talked soft in his ear while he quietly sobbed into my neck. Like a little boy that had just gone over mommy's knee until he cried his eyes out, and was now finally being shown tenderness.

   I softly explained what I had done, and why, and how necessary it was, and that I wished there was some other way to do it, but of course there wasn't. I patiently explained that he had been asking for this, and now that he was getting it, he was not allowed to try to manipulate me by trying to make me feel sorry for him. He sobbed and promised he wouldn't. I matter of fact reminded him he knew not to, and if he did, that he knew what to expect for it.

   Later on, I sent him downstairs and told him to be bent over the kitchen table for me. I came down shortly after, and raped him again. The same routine except this time longer, harder, and rougher. Then the tender after care was longer and sweeter. Another break while he made us a quick microwaved snack and a drink, was followed by over the end of the couch. Each time longer and rougher, each more painful and humiliating than the ones that came before. Always, the tender sweet mommy after care went up to match it.

   I was forging a link, between being made to ask for and then to perform humiliating and degrading sex acts… and linking it to tenderness and caring and sweetness. I essentially Stockholm Syndrome-d him. He already had a link between pleasure and pain, this just flowered off of it and turned into an even bigger plant than the one it had budded off of. He now would kneel and beg for his sweet after care, and would wait longer. I allowed him to run his hands and mouth all over me, while waiting.

   His final rape was conducted in the middle of the living room floor. He was finally allowed to beg to get finished off, after pleading for more and assuring me how much he loved it. It was of course the raunchiest and roughest one yet, and much longer and filled with any humiliation I could imagine. Hearing him beg for his release, while being essentially raped and degraded yet loving it was strange and enjoyable. I was a very sick mommy, quite twisted and perverted. I stopped and started on his release, teasing him to no end. I finally quit and instead gathered his legs up over my shoulders. Wrapping my arms around his neck to hold him like that securely, in a casual yet strong firm way I knew no mere girly girl could even attempt.

   This of course gave me completely unrestricted access to his richly overused hole. The face to face intimacy to this phase of what would likely end up his final rape of the night was awesome. You flip a casual fuck over because there's no deep meaningful connection there. Its just a fuck hole, and this is the person who has the hole and is willing. You flip them over because there's no desire for that intimate face to face aspect to the act. No face touching, no sticking tongues in each other's mouth, no shared sweet nothings mixed in with all the filthy dirty talk.

   Its not your wife, its not your girlfriend. Both of you likely either could or would have partners already. Sure, its fun to fuck the wife or steady girl like that once in a while, fun for both of you. But, you also both crave that face to face intimacy. Girls have gotten so used to being turbo-whores on afterburners now, that its become the gold standard for all fucking. A slow, sweet tender fuck gets you a bad mark in fuck class when they report on your abilities. It shouldn't, it used to be the signal during a spirited casual encounter, that the person was at least open to the possibility of seeing you again, and finding out if there could really be something of substance there between you two.

   Not any more. Steady couples and married couples are now each trained before the relationship to fuck like this. Then everyone wonders why relationships are going downhill, and rolling faster every damn year. So yeah, I gathered those legs up over my shoulders, embraced him the way only a tall strong girl can, while I continued to plunder the rabbit hole. Our faces told each other we were having fun and each pleasing the other perfectly, even though it was so at odds with what an outsider would see peeking through a crack in the draperies. One partner taking full and unbridled advantage of the other, and sexually assaulting them was only the start of whatever was going on that made their brief peep so deeply disturbing.

   We were both tumbling down the rabbit hole, and would live for weeks on the other side we came out on, then find our way back at the end. If we even wanted to, or we now knew the hidden path back for a fun visit. He continued to beg for his much delayed release, and I kept denying him. Teasing and slowing and stopping. Ordering him that if he came before I was finished with him, I would switch skin off of him.

   After the first rape in the bedroom, I began slowly turning the volume knob up, then going from button 1 to button 3. This one, the final and tertiary violent rape session, got the much vaunted number 4. When I finally started vibrating us while raping him on the kitchen table from behind, my pleasure followed. I had never had buzzing toys before, and while I knew what they were, I never felt a need. My finger and my imagination gave me what I needed, and the occasional guilty pleasure of the extra accessory shower head the luxury shower room afforded with its strong pulse selections was, well, what the hell.

   As each rape went on, from location to location around the townhouse, finding more and ever stranger places to sexually assault him? My noises ramp-ed up until they matched his. No longer blindfolded like he had been for his first introductory rape, tied and shackled to this same and fortunately supremely sturdy wooden table… he now knew I had a little jelly appendage touching my own pleasure button. I showed him my accessory selections of inside me jellies, so I could feel what he was feeling, as well as get it on my clit directly. I would cling to him, pant and sweat, and make noises. Dig my fingertips into his flesh and muscle periodically. Shaking and shuddering at times, much like he had in shock and awe at what I was not only capable of doing to him now, but also enjoyed enthusiastically to his surprise as well. The only difference was that mine was all pleasure. His shaking and shuddering had been excitement and anticipation mixed with fear and nervousness and apprehension.

   I became not only a raping fuck machine that methodically plundered him mercilessly, I was also increasingly turning at times into a warm, sweaty second skin that clung to him and scratched and bit. Sure, I left more marks of mine on him. Scratches gouged, red marks that would turn into the signature thumb print rape bruises normally only women got from bad boy sex. Bite marks that we both knew would show for days, and laughed about. I looked down on him and smiled as only a somewhat sadistic hedonist can. Whip welts, bruises, scratches and bite marks. Temporary territorial pissing I marked him as mine with. We both knew he could never sample another willing girl, because he would be too marked up and embarrassed to get undressed enough to get that far. If he even wanted to, because after I gave him this increased appetite for the spice, what could he even expect that would be the first step or two towards what he would now crave.

   A vanilla fuck, from a short and thin painted up bar whore who thought she knew something advanced, because she left a trail of male bodies in her wake would be as meaningless to him sexually as a kiss goodnight from your own grandmother. If a much prettier girl ever did proposition him? He would smile, shrug, and brush her off. What could she even offer him. A blowjob. You can have my bum! I'm a bad girl! Yeah, whatever. A finger in the ass blowjob? Please. Smack my ass mister, pull my hair, I just love it! He'd yawn. What's her trump card. Ooh, bad boy wants birthday smacks? I do that… Pffft.

   Thank god I'm one of the sports girls that still has the feminine hands and nails, the feminine feet. The decent girl hair, a cute enough face. Curves to my body that are pleasing to a man's eye. It wouldn't be only once some boy at the university has seen me walking by, no one else around to gauge my size accurately. Huh. Decent tomboy there, she always goes by around this time. Why, next day at this time? I'm gonna screw my courage up to go out there, and lay some rap on her. I'm a girl, I know what's going on. Almost all of us know, hell, even before a guy knows he's interested.

   I've seen them walk up on me, then realize they were fooled by not seeing me around other girls to accurately assess my size. I know the numbers from human sexuality class. At a hair under an even six foot tall, I look down to some or more of an extent of over ninety percent of the men in America, to look at their face. If I stare straight ahead, I'm overlooking the top of their head. I'm one of the few girls on campus that notice which boys have that teeny thinning no other girl can see, if the boy is going to go thin on hair when that starts. I stare dead ahead into a six foot tall man's eyes in conversation. Getting close to 200 pounds when I'm an "off season porker", I'm not even a girl bodybuilder. Its not fake muscle like they sport.

   I inherited from my Daddy's side of the family. Where men routinely grow to six and a half foot tall on average. Some a little less, and a few even taller. Like Daddy always jokes, some Vikings must have invaded Italy way back in the day, and left their mark on our family line. I simply tower over men of average height and worse on the ones under average. They stare up at me in fascination. I'm actually the girly girl around the adult men in my family, at any big family get together. The men aren't beanpoles and clothes hangers, either. The kind of guys that already look like pro linebackers naturally, before they ever touch free weights when they get to that age where boys get into that.

   I'm well aware at my age, that the girl next door cute tomboy they might look at in passing? When I wear shorts and can show off my legs, is when I get some attention from boys that like fit girls. I have daddy's side's big legs and calves, the kind where the muscles naturally show as if free weights caused it, even though not. I have their big thick bones, too. No, until guys get well over six foot tall, and filled out a bit… I honestly don't think of them as "big" by comparison. Even then, the giants that play on the line at a top university football program? I'm at my ease walking around them. Hell, they look like all the men at any big family reunion I go to once a year with my family.

   I talk and joke and push and shove in good nature with them. I grew up around men this size. Hell, I prefer to hang around boys instead of girls, just by my tomboy nature. I see the looks on little girl's faces when they walk up and I'm standing around some of the athlete boys. I'm one of them, I'm one of those. One of the big people. Scary big to ordinary girls. When I'm with team mates, other big girls more like me, I'm sure we're about as intimidating physically to regular sized girls as Vikings must have surely appeared to regular Europeans when they got their first look at them.

   If you ever wondered how sports girls are personality wise at a big university at this level of play? About as ornery and boisterous as the boys when we feel like it. I've learned to watch myself around smaller girls in the psychology department. I can't get pissed or pushing and shoving like some girls can get. I'm a gentle giant by nature without being given cause to act otherwise. I want to get into the study groups of the smartest in my department, and being intimidating or scary isn't the way to get invited in. Intellectuals value politeness and brains, not aggressiveness and pushiness.

   Plus I don't want gawked at any more than necessary for being a big girl. Sure, at this level of college play, there's girls around taller than me. Of course. Particularly on the basketball and volleyball teams. Almost all of them though, run a little slender at that height a couple inches over me. They don't have quite the thick bones and naturally thick muscles I have. Some of the tallest on those teams, are the slender really tall girls. Their extra inches aren't even remotely intimidating to me.

   Yeah. College kids are always moving into and out of apartments. I sometimes shove an average height and weight guy out of the way, and grab the other end of the couch or chest freezer, and negotiate with some guy the steps and corners where you have to be able to more than just lift it, but be comfortable and able to manipulate it for a span of time. I don't wrap dishes in newspaper and pack boxes of nick-knacks with the girls. I walk out where the boys are moving the big and awkward items, and pick an end up and go.

   Men gawk. Girly girls drop their jaws open and get quiet and whistle low. The more capable boys, that remind me of the farm boys I grew up hanging out with, smile and nod approvingly.

   So yeah, I'm slightly self conscious of my size and strength for a girl to have. Its equal parts gift and curse. Cute enough and enough of a tomboy for men that appreciate that in a girl, but enough of it I'm just too damn big for most men. I'm willing to overlook something like that in favor of other things on my to get list in a steady boyfriend. But most men aren't. Or worse, they think they're doing me a favor "overlooking" me being big and strong. Or worst of all, a little guy that fetishes an amazon.

   But I can be myself and more with my boyfriend, wrangling him around on the blanket in the middle of the living room floor like a feeder calf that needs grabbed up and controlled. I'm actually getting close to thinking about pinching off his final and most violent sodomizing and rape of the evening. Hell, maybe even one more. Sexually assaulting him with excessive force, hugging him securely with his legs up over in a bundle. Just for the hell of it, I tried to pick him up like that. I told him my intention was to see if I could hold him up against the wall, and continue raping him there. The way a man ordinarily controls the wife for rough night fun.

   I failed trying a couple times, but I got an A for effort and had him a couple inches off the blanket before setting him back down. I was only barely missing those couple precious inches more, where I could have gotten him up to where I knew I could handle him and go through with it. He's loved every minute of my physically aggressive series of forced rapes I perpetrated on him tonight, and he's into it. Well, after that first one that left him sobbing in tears and shaking afterwards. Crying like any rape victim, hurt and humiliated they had been forced and had to do what the aggressive attacker wanted to take from them as they felt the whim. He cried and finally submitted to me fully, giving himself over to being in submission to me for several weeks. Begging me to kiss and make up with him. I opened his ass up to my toy shamelessly and with no mercy.

   Now he's into it finally. After admitting he would submit to my control and power over him, to abuse as I saw fit, he started loving it. Fuck this. I want what I want, and won't be denied after all this. I toss him down, and spill him out in front of me. I look down, sweating and breathing hard from the physical exertion of wrangling him around. His hands smooth around my tan legs kneeling over him. One on my muscular thigh, tracing an errant index fingertip around, feeling the individual thigh muscles bulging and playing around as I shift my weight. His other hand caressing and cupping my calf muscle. That index finger feeling the split when I push right. He's staring, smiling and biting his lower lip. Fascinated he actually and now finally has his own girl he only saw on TV and grew up fantasizing about. He's got that entranced and infatuated look. I'm not self conscious with him. The way he stares like this, makes me feel gorgeous. My 1 to 10 scale number almost doubles when I'm with him and his eyes are the only ones on me.

   I tickle and pinch him rough, and he squirms but doesn't fight me. I stood up, and put my feet on either side of him, touching his rib cage. He gently grabs my ankles, and runs his hands lightly up to feel as much of my legs as he can. He's waiting to see what I want to do with him now, what I'll expect out of him. He has submitted to me completely. I gesture, he does what I indicate. I can twirl my finger and smile, he'll roll over and stick his ass in the air if he thinks that's what I want. I touch him and give the gentlest touch, he moves or rolls to comply with my hand's suggestion. I'm completely and irrevocably in charge of this carnal fuck.

   I nudge him with my foot and order him roughly.

   "Roll over for me, slut."

   I get the respectful soft reply I expect. When he goes to stick his ass up into the air like I taught him to do for me, I shove him flat on the floor with my foot on his lower back. He plants his face on the blanket and slowly spreads his legs for me, in case that's what I want. I guess I do. I kneel back down and put my weight on him. My six pack tummy bearing down on him rough, my knees scooting his thighs apart for me. I grab his wrists and hold them at his sides forcefully. I bang him flat, face down and tell him he's my fuck toy, and when I grab him for this in the middle of the night and wake him up for a rough fuck, he'll comply. He swears he will, and that he'll love it.

   It feels now more like he means it, its no longer just ritual words he must repeat. He's completely submissive to me now, he offers his body to me for any carnal and unnatural desire I wish. I bury my toy on number 4 for a while now, and sweat and shake on him. The extra pressure from bottoming out and rolling my hips around buzzing my clit is making me make noises of my own, louder now by a slight margin than his own squeals he can't help. Some of his whimpers and squeals now are pain, some are pleasure. Both excite me almost as much as the quick random selections and timing of the incomparable button number 4. The Catholic guilt I was raised with is evaporated. When I'm done, I regain my composure sweating and panting on him, and stand up. I nudge him with my foot, kind of rough.

   "Get the fuck up. Now."

   I grab him by the front of his strong leather collar locked around his neck.

   "You're my fuck toy now. Beg me for more."

   He does. It sounds convincing when he pleads for mommy to fuck him more, like she really means it. Mommy will, too. She most certainly will. I smile and play with moving him around by the collar. I bounce him somewhat gently off the front door. The neighbors will think there's another party fight over here. Whatever.

   "If you don't give me what I want, you get mommy's belt on your ass. Again. This time? I won't put a thing in your mouth. The girls on both sides of us, will hear a naughty little boy over mommy's lap, screaming for his life while mommy works his poor ass over with her belt. Then I'll get a little too much apricot brandy in me? And I'll go back to work with mommy's belt and really give you something to scream for, and you can really give the neighbors a good show."

   He tries to kiss me and I pull my smiling face back, hold him by his collar against the front door. Firm. Rough. He begs me to make him please me. He begs to do absolutely anything I want.

   "Good."

   I drag him by the collar to the corner, and all but throw him into it. The neighbors surely looked up again, and shrugged.

   "Back in the corner, little boy. Feet together. Hands down at your sides. Stand still, or you'll get it good."

   I make him turn around, like its time out corner. Nose in the corner. Feet together, in the corner. Hands down. You move, you'll get it. Stand still. Or else. God, strict mommy needs a drink. A short breather. Number 4? Killing me softly, and what a way to go, let me tell you. A couple sips of my cheap apricot brandy I like. A cold drink can. The cold drink is essential, the brandy? Optional and appreciated. A couple minutes and I'm back… somewhat. I'm still in the rush. Was this really me the last couple hours off and on? Yeah. Pretty sure.

   I'm safer for staying loyal to him now, and the same way I recently told you his reasons for it. Even if he wanted to sample a random bar whore, she could do nothing for him now. Me? I'm hooked now for good. Where the hell would I ever find another one of these. The rare combination of matching up to my list so perfect. Coupled with dovetailing sexual appetites that are each the minority. Now add this in. The kinkier and more specific your taste gets, the more willing you have to be to skimp on other qualities.

   Its not in me to be an attention whore and go public. Girls and women do that, I feel, as some kind of attention getting device. Look at me, I'm so down to earth and so perfect. And guess what? The kinkiest shit you ever met. I'm so dreamy. I could puke, as if the world needs another one of those.

   I can't troll kinky sex clubs in some seedy end of a big city known for it. LA, New York… not me. I refuse to turbo-whore around and join all the other people in my society making personal relationships in the modern world a race to the bottom. Most other girls are going the modern route. Show boyfriend, then bad boy fun on the side. They've turned marriage into the adult version of this retarded teenager game. There I go. Mommy is down the rabbit hole now too.

   "Want a cold drink? Here. If I'm thirsty, you are too."

   I reached around and tipped the can for him. I wiggled the small glass of cheap brandy we like to sip, and tipped that for him as well. Another tip of the cold can. When we're both happy, I need my hands free. I crowded him in the corner from behind, inspecting his body with my hands. I still want what I wanted, I just needed a break.

   "Turn around."

   I'm still roaming my hands. Like a blind girl trying to "see" her lover.

   "I still wanna try fucking you up against the wall. My… demographics consultant? Tells me that a guy that likes it rough, is going to love it. So let's try. Give me a leg…"

   I managed. I'm a farm girl. When you're carrying a heavy hay bale, you can push it up against a wall or anything solid, and you can even get one or both hands free temporarily. In the corner of a barn stall? Its even less effort. If I can almost lift him up with his legs over my shoulders, hugging him tight… that means I can probably hold him and maybe take a few steps if I managed to get him up. If I can get him up and in the corner, I'm home free.

   We're both athletic, and flexible. We both stretch out well. We fooled around, and got one of his legs over and around my hip. I can hug him, and get enough pressure that his shoulders against the corner, almost gives us a brief moment. What would he call it, a proof of concept? Well, POC is a success. Operation fuck my slut up against the wall is about to come true. I dare any girly girl to try this and expect to pull it off.

   Rough, but really today and tonight was nothing but. He got his legs around me, hugging me. He called it his "guard" from fighting. Arms locked around my neck and one hand tucked and locked into the other. He's just doing it standing up instead of rolling around on the ground fighting with me. Wow. As long as I can stand up with him even briefly, I just have to keep on my tiptoes and get pressure on him against and into the corner. I got my hay bale now. I can risk about a full second at a time with one hand, to ready my next assault on the rabbit hole. Second attempt had me just miss and slide off instead of in. Like everything else with us, the third time is the charm. I can feel him gasp as I make my entry. This isn't possible slow. If I did this to start him out? He would scream as I plunged and bottomed out, and cry hysterically.

   My naughty compulsion even likes that idea. Damned compulsion is going to make me roast in Catholic hell for liking kinky sex too much. I can't stroke like this, not properly. I can barely roll my hips but I can a little. I can only come out slightly, then back to using it to help hold the hay bale. What percentage of his weight I help out in this fashion, I have no way to measure. Its forceful on him, I can read that on his face. He's equal parts impressed his big strong girl next door cute tomboy can rape him like this in this position, and equal parts embarrassed to be trapped in the corner by his lover. My filthy mouth does nothing to lessen his humiliation and his pleasure pain, I tease and humiliate him verbally. My slutty tongue and mouth compete with my dirty mouth hooked directly to my filthy, compulsion driven brain.

   Like I need begged right at this moment to give it to him like I mean it, but he's been trained to say it and mean it. He's my personal property, a thing that I own and do with as I please. He now knows it, and I tell him anyways. If his face could get any redder of a blush, it would be a different color. Goddamn, but number four button does its thing too reliably. I end up making as much noise as him, then I pass him up in commotion on occasion of… well, you know what happens unpredictably. Some of these are little ones and come more frequently by this stage of long use. Unpredictably, some are more violent and induce shuddering and panting.

   Before one such gut fluttering happening I feel coming on, I threaten him with violence and sexual assault. Hardly worth noting one more at this point, really. Not after all this.

   "I swear to god, if you come without my permission, mommy is going to belt your naked marked up ass so long and so hard, the neighbors will call the cops on me."

   I don't really care anymore if the bite marks show on his shoulder when the girls get back, I doubt he'll mind either. Like I'd care if he did. My thigh muscles are starting to burn from the added effort of sustaining this squirming and wiggling hay bale up in the corner. If regular sex on average burns X calories per hour? I don't even wanna know at this point. With all the crazy fad workouts that come in and out of fashion, could I sell this one and make my quick mint. Pornographic isometrics is as good a name as any other.

   Regular neighbors would have called the cops by now. College kids are a safer option when you're going to carry on like this. Rowdy team mates though? You could probably throw human body parts out the windows before they'd call. We're going to be the gossip of my team, and I'm going to love it. Fuck it, and there's another pun. Its literal as well, though. I'm fucking an it, an object. He's my naughty little fuck toy at this point. Literally and figuratively. It takes a while, but when I finally feel like my thighs can't take any more, I experiment with stepping back.

   I can slowly teeter a few steps to get to the couch, risking catastrophe. He cries when I drop him on the couch and he doesn't stop clutching on. Because dropping him on the couch buried me deeper into him. Hugging to me with arms and legs around me. Because I'm so tender and sweet to him in bed when I'm like this, I slap him around some and resume my earlier ability to continue where I left off. Stroking, rolling my hips, and humiliating him verbally to match my physical sexual assault on him. On the couch now, I can stay alive under number 4's random attacks and regain my steam. I'm a fucking and raping machine again. I start seeing how badly I can actually hurt him now. I want him to beg me to quit, so I have an excuse to punish him.

   I can dig in with my legs spread out, pinning him to the couch with my jelly weapon. I can manage to hurt him now. I make him look me in the face, so I can see him cry and get off on it. Its as much of a rush now, as was my first rape up in my bedroom where I owned him and won his complete surrender and submission. I'm just flaunting my control and power now. If directing action in the bed is mild domination, this is the other end of that spectrum. Slaps across the face are a little more frequent, and definitely every few they slowly grow more powerful. He's doing absolutely nothing to deserve it, he obeys perfectly. There's no reason not to just haul off and smack the taste out of his mouth at random intervals. The more he cries into my neck now, begging, the more I give him something to cry for. When I spread my legs to pin him like a bug to the couch, I dig in some.

   The slaps across the face are just icing on the cake. The main dish is the sexual act being used to provide punishment. This fight is sexual in nature, and one sided. I'm beginning to punch him inside his ass, as hard and as fast as I can now. Every time he sobs out another "I love you mommy" I'm more prone to slap him again. I decided to have fun with it. I suddenly smiled, and went back to something resembling making love to his ass. Not gentle by any stretch, just not as hard as I can. I sit up on him, and smile now.

   "You really love me? Don't you dare just say it."

   He swears to mommy he does.

   "Then tell me. Say it again."

   It gets him a nice hard slap across the face.

   "Again."

   He repeats it, with more feeling and he gets another one, harder.

   "Again. Love hurts now…"

   After a couple, I don't have to tell him again. He starts repeating it. I repeat my open handed and backhand cracks across his surprised face. The sweeter, the more feeling in how he says it? The harder my hand goes across his face.

   He won't beg me to stop. Maybe he's afraid I'll make good on my threat if he does, or maybe he actually loves it now and I've won. Maybe both. It can't be neither. I hurt him as bad as I can. If I kill him like this, I can imagine the look on the jury's face. The murder weapon, we give you exhibit A. Number four is a killer. The newspapers and tabloids and media would go into a feeding frenzy. Half the people would want to ban the dangerous sex toy, the other half would ask as casually as they could sneak into conversation what company and model was the murder weapon. I'm sure they would use the old standby excuses. Just out of curiosity. Asking for a friend.

   There's no more pretense of a sex act, I'm simply giggling and seeing how hard I can deliver each thrust, and how fast. With his arms and legs hugging me, I can see his head jog with every attack.

   He's crying into my neck now freely. Threatening to possibly scream now. He begs me to please cram something into his mouth, to keep him out of trouble. He sobs and cries it out while he still can, and judging from where he's at now, he will soon lose coherency. My clothes are piled just close by enough to drag some of the pile over with my foot. My hand reaches down without looking and feels around. I come up with my socks.

   I tease him with my socks dangling in his face now. I slow my attack. I actually tease him with some love making and gentle hip rolling now. I wipe some sweaty lube on my one palm and show it to him, and give him a couple of teasing tugs to torture him.

   "I told you the rules before we started. I allow you to cry, I allow you to beg, and begging won't do you any good. Rules are rules. I told you, no gag and if you scream, you'll get severe punishment. Think twice. Because once this gag goes in? It will not come out."

   He sobbed his questions into my neck. Which would be worse. The punishment for screaming, or being punished for needing gagged.

   "Hmm. Technically, its sort of sweet that you want more. And that you're trying to stay out of trouble. I'm not sure. But, mommy knows this. If you get gagged right now? You at least get the devil you know right now. Actual punishment for screaming? That, is the devil you don't know."

   He cried into my neck while deciding, and begged for the devil he already knows. I gagged him with my socks, and secured them with a bandanna still laying around in the kitchen I knotted tight behind his head. Ritual. I used two pairs of the long chain handcuffs, around the back and around the front both. No more hugging me, this restrained his hands kept at his hips now. Helpless for any slaps. I went back to giving him something to cry for, but with a vengeance now. He had been last getting it on the couch where I had dumped him after walking a few steps over from the corner. His legs still wrapped around my waist over my hips, hugging my neck. Clutching and hugging around me with arms and legs to hold on for dear life, while he took his relentless jelly pounding I gave him.

   I decided to start there, as that was where I had left off. I attacked the rabbit hole with no remaining mercy. The attempt now was to see how bad I could make him rain tears and cry, and to see if I could make him lose it and scream. I stopped using backhands, because I was really cracking him open handed now when I did it. I'd slap his face sideways, then back again with the other. There's some middle ground between loud crying and the beginning of screams. I guess I'm an expert now on these matters. I went back to his legs over my shoulders and gathering him in my arms in a bundle, and attacking him as relentlessly as I could in that position. He stops taking slaps, but I can more effectively deliver my other, my main punishment. Legs flipped up is a helpless position to be in. I abuse my position, both literally and figuratively.

   I all but tossed him on the floor, and had him face down and his ass in the air. Then I would push his ass down flat and go back to it. My knees forcing his thighs apart and keeping them helplessly wide and waiting. Dropping and throwing my weight more and more into it when he was flat and helpless under me. I cycled around these blanket living room floor positions, and really worked him over. I laughed when I saw I could scoot his face across the blanketed floor by seeing how hard I could thrust into him from behind, and how fast. Hands chained helplessly at his sides, when on top I was prone to spread his legs wide and push them down hard. Instead of pinning his wrists down, I pinned his spread ankles down rough. I could really deliver the goods directly into him like that, and he was helpless to take it.

   Number four attacked me, though not with as much pain and humiliation as I gave him. The harder I hate-fucked him, every push made that slightly harder jelly contact with my clit. I had a helpless rape victim, and more license than ever to degrade, humiliate and to hurt him. He couldn't quit, he was a literal captive audience participant. It was on me to finally stop. After one final period of clutching and scratching and biting and making my own noises… I was exhausted. I was literally spent and exhausted from a marathon of seeing how bad I could use sex as a weapon to hurt him. I taught him he was to beg for more, and that he would get what he begged for.

   It was crystal clear now, who owned who. Who was in charge. Who held power and who was in complete control. He had submitted to my absolute and complete authority over him.

   I let him go free, and released his mouth. I had him sit on my lap on the couch, kneeling astride me, down on number 4. Face to face intimacy. Love didn't have to hurt anymore, at least for now. I finally wiped a lubed palm into tugs. Stopping and teasing and drawing it out as long as I could. He begged for release after I told him to. When I eventually sped up with no sudden stoppage I had become known for now… he went off. I had warned him he had to tell me when it was time. I caught it all in my mouth. Then, smiling, I kissed him as slutty as I could, while feeding it to him off of my tongue. Finally allowed to lift his now tender ass up and off of to become at last free from number four, he could finally begin to calm down, and sobbed into my neck, leaning in. Thanking me more respectfully and politely than he'd been taught to, and for much longer as well. I went through the new ritual of consoling the poor, ashamed rape victim.

   Each rape had grown more violent and more intense, growing longer each time. Every sweet consolation afterwards, grew more tender, sweeter, and more touching. He craved it. This last one was longer and more loving than ever. At what would become the end of it, I started speaking matter of fact about what had happened to him. I asked how his ass felt, and he admitted it hurt. I shrugged, and told him easily and directly that I knew, because I was the one hurting him. Then it was time.

   "Now. Go get the box in the kitchen. The one with mommy's toy kit stuff in it. Bring it to me. Shoo."

   Strict mommy voice was back after tender time was over.

   "Grab my practice T shirt. Kneel in front of me."

   I gave him a throw pillow off the couch I was sitting on, for him to kneel on.

   "Wipe me off with the T shirt. Do a decent job. You'll see why its important to do a good job in just a minute."

   When he had it wiped clean several times, I handed him two pairs of regular handcuffs, after putting my socks over his wrists and hands.

   "You will cuff your wrists behind your back. Do it now. Make it extra tight. When I check it and lock them? If I find it could have been tighter… I'll put my belt across your ass for not following my instructions properly, and it will take a while. It will not be a polite correction, it will be an extremely long and very severe punishment. Do it."

   When he was done, I checked them, and told him he was lucky he listened to me. I locked them. Then I did his ankles, and clicked them tight so they dug in some, like his wrists. I sat back down and dangled one of the many keys in front of his face. Then I dropped the key and tied the short plastic tube in his mouth, tight behind his head.

   "I just fucked you properly for the first time. This is how mommy likes to fuck. Get used to it. And now? You're going to show mommy some respect, for having fucked you so well."

   I wiped some lube on it, and pulled the excess back off with my hand, then wiped my hand on him. I grabbed him gently by the back of the head, and guided his tube gagged mouth down onto it, and it into his mouth. After a while, I tapped the back of his head and heard a little gag.

   "I heard that. Sounded like you were asking for more…"

   I laughed, and tapped the back of his head to make the little gag noises every time.

   "Kneeling in front of mommy? Shows you have respect for me. You will respect me. You're thanking me, for fucking you so well. You're thanking me, for showing you how to take a good fucking for the first time."

   I leaned over, and started giving him the belt. Hard. I gave him a good one, then tapped his head to make the noise. Then he got another one and I did it again. I took a break and held his tube over it, until he drooled on it. Then he got another crack, and I started dipping it in the back of his mouth more each time. When I finally got it in the first time, I held it down in, and gave him a fast series of really hard ones. I brought him back up, then repeated it again and again. By the time I finally got him all the way in, I laced my fingers behind his head and held him there, until he started struggling. He was cuffed tight and helpless, I heard the insistent "mm!" noise and little clinks of the short handcuff chains on his wrists and ankles. Then I brought him up for air and a break. Holding him to drool on it more. Then, when the break was over, I went all the way in, and gave a nice, long set of super fast and extremely hard cracks with the belt.

   I repeated this procedure several more times, until my lap was soaked with his tears. I spoke very firm and rough to him when I was done and brought him up the last time.

   "You better knock that whiny shit off, right now, immediately. Or I'll really give you something to whine for. I demand strict obedience, and you will obey me. Until we're done, you're going to get extra chores. I'll show you what I expect, and if it isn't done right when I check to see how well you respect me? I'll give you polite correction."

   "When you're being corrected? You will not need tied up for it. You'll willingly submit to being corrected. You'll strip, and stay how I tell you for your correction. You'll stay still for it, and not make a sound you're not told to make. If you move, or make noise? We'll repeat it again after we are done. If you reach the point you can't possibly sit still, can't stop making noise? That means you're asking me for punishment, instead of a nice correction. You'll be taken down to the basement, and you'll get severe punishment. I mean real punishment, not the love taps you've been getting. Then, we'll see if you appreciate polite correction a little more."

   "When we're alone, you know my name is mommy, and you know how to address me with respect. You better never forget to. When other people are around, you'll drop the mommy shit, and we'll be a normal couple again. When you're training is completely over? We'll go back to normal. But until then? You will not talk over me. You will not interrupt me, you will not correct me. If you think you need to, you will whisper into my ear for permission, and I'll decide."

   "Until this is over? You will not tease me, or make fun of me. Or you will get an extra severe punishment. I like the way you tease me, I like your smart-alack. But until you earn my respect by showing me how good of a slut you can be for me? That can wait until the end. Like I said. When this is over? We'll be a normal couple again. Until then? You better watch what comes out of your dirty little mouth, and how it comes out of it."

   "Now. Is anything unclear about any of these instructions? I hope not. You need to remember that I speak once, and I don't repeat myself. You need to understand that things that could normally slide, will get correction. And you better figure out quick, that if I have to correct you on the same things too many times, it will be obvious that you want some extra punishment instead. Don't ever forget to thank me with great respect, every time I correct you or punish you. Not only will it be extra polite, and extra respectful when you thank me? I don't want to just hear the words, I better believe you mean it. If I think you don't really mean it? Very severe punishment. I expect to be properly thanked from now on, every time I have sex with you."

   "Hmm. Now that you know what's expected of you? I better see it. Or else. I hope I make myself clear. Now then… I'm starving. You'd probably like to eat too, I bet. Let's get you out of this, and you can start showing mommy how good you can be from now on."

   I had it all on a cell phone high resolution video, to go with the others I was collecting for us to watch on naughty movie nights. I had him cook for us, and wait on cold cans to drink for us. I couldn't resist having him feed me like before, and lick my lips to wipe me. I teased him for squirming in his chair, and quizzing him about how it felt. I teased him about it, and made him describe it. I talked about it like we were discussing the weather, even though it was so explicit and dirty of a subject, and embarrassing to make him admit things like that. I enjoyed seeing him all shy and blushing in his chair talking with me.

   Not that it was super late, but I was wiped out and I was sure he was as well. I had him gather everything up, and I got my shower time fun I loved so much. Followed by my now ritual tub day spa pampering. We finally had our tub normal time.

   I sat leaning back with my eyes closed in enjoyment and relaxation, with my legs open and down the sides. He sat in front of me, leaning back on me.

   "Mm. Someone is not so talkative, like the last bath."

   "You weren't happy with how I was talking to you, I remember."

   I rubbed his chest with the wet washrag idly while we talked.

   "Hmm. I remember. I was explaining to you, that it wasn't just a fun game, it was real. I told you, you won't do the yeah yeah okay thing to me. So? Just don't. Simple as that, really."

   "Okay."

   "You don't have to not talk to me. I like talking to you. Especially when we have normal time, like now. I told you, that I was going to show you what completely submitting to me, really meant. Didn't I, little boy."

   "Yes."

   "Well. I think you have a much better idea what I had in mind now. It was so cute the way you cried after the first one, you know. You didn't expect that, did you. Tell me the truth. Surprised you, huh?"

   "I was… very surprised."

   "Hmm. I could tell. I think I got my point across. You actually submitted completely to me, didn't you."

   "I did."

   "Glad it worked. By the time we were done finally, I feel like you're not ashamed and shy with me now. There's no need to be shy with me. I already know you like what I do to you, I've known it for a long time. I meant what I said. You didn't admit anything, to me. You just admitted it all to yourself. You finally let yourself go, didn't you."

   "I'm pretty sure I did."

   "Feels good, doesn't it? To finally admit that you're my little slut, and you like it. Tell me if I'm wrong about it."

   "No. You're right."

   "We might hide it from the rest of the world, but not from each other. We share our little secret. When this is all over, think how close we'll be. We'll do everything. We'll be able to try, anything. No shame anymore."

   "Shame is a real theme with you."

   "It is. You know the difference between pop psychology and real psychology?"

   "Maybe. You should tell me. You're the expert."

   "Popular psychology, pop psych. That's the book, the video, the seminar. The TV shows, the radio talk shows. Now, people that aren't in the field, can sit around in their armchairs and discuss topics that were once reserved for the professionals. Example. Now everyone knows the difference between dominant and submissive, right?"

   "Pretty straight forward, sure."

   "Okay. So then, tell me. What are the traits of a dominant person. Quick and easy. Then tell me the traits of a submissive person. Go on. First time I heard this, it was an eye opener, and its my field now."

   "I mean, dominant. Duh. Bold. Aggressive. Tough. You don't ask people, you tell them. You're put in charge of things."

   "Now do submissive."

   "Submissive. The opposite. Meek. Mild. Weak. You can't tell anyone anything, and even if you do, they don't have to listen to you anyways. If you were put in charge, everyone would walk all over you."

   "Yeah. Standard pop psych talk. So soccer moms and teenage boys can sit around, and repeat slogans that are about as advanced of psychological concepts, as T shirt slogans and bumper stickers. Its pop. Its fluff. I'm sure in your field, computers and mathematics? You hear people talk about pop computer stuff, and you roll your eyes. Its a three word phrase everyone learns, and now thinks they know something. Am I right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Me and you. What are we? Tell me. I want to hear it out of your own mouth. Say it."

   "Well. You just went over explaining it to me, I actually forget how many times. Who is in charge here. You? Are dominant. I'm submissive. You demanded that I completely submit to you. I did."

   "See? Pop fluff. Ready for the real story?"

   "If it doesn't get me into trouble…"

   "Hmm. You're fine dear. You've been taught how to address your strict mommy with respect. And I can hear it in what you say this time in the bath, and how you say it. So, if you want the real story? I'll tell you."

   "Sure."

   "The public learned two new vocabulary words. They think they know what those terms mean, because they sound like words in the dictionary they already know. Dominant. Submissive. Type A, type B. The alpha male, and the beta males. You know the drill, like the rest of the public."

   "Its all… wrong?"

   "Pop fluff is always like that. Little sound bites. Slogans for bumper stickers. Then here come the hucksters. The snake oil salesmen. Why, you buy this book? I'll teach you. What simple things to say to any woman, and she'll fall instantly in love with you. You've seen ordinary men, and women that look like models fall all over themselves for them, that can be you. I'll teach you the simple secrets they know, and you don't. Sound familiar?"

   "New one like that every couple years."

   "Yep. Snake oil. Its about as real, as a beer commercial. Do you really think if you drink the right cheap beer, beautiful women will lay at your feet while you go fishing? Come on. Get real. Learn to say the magic words, and you can instantly have the best looking women, anywhere you go. Begging for your cock and fighting each other over it. Please."

   "So if it sounds too good to be true…"

   "It usually is. Here. How about all the self help courses. New one every year that goes big. You come to my obscenely expensive seminars? I'll teach you the simple things you lack, that are holding you back, from having anything you want in life. Your own jet airplane, like I have. Your own private paradise island, here look at mine. A successful career, I have one. I'm willing to teach you how I got all that, and its not because I'm better than you. Its because I know the little secrets to the way things work. And once you know them? You can apply these simple things, to anything you want, and get it. Just empty out your pockets in that money barrel right there, and step right up."

   "You know? You're right. All these things sound… all different, but, all very much the same."

   "Yes, my little slut with the very sore ass who can't sit still in the tub right now, and is squirming and annoying his mommy. I'm beginning to wonder if putting my switch across a naked, wet ass draped over the tub would achieve, getting you to sit still."

   "Do you want me to get out of the tub, and stop annoying you."

   "No. I'm enjoying my hot soak. I love it. I also like having you in here with me. If you get out of the tub, you'll be annoying me more than the squirming."

   "Um…"

   "No dear. Mommy is not going to switch your naked wet ass. As fun as that would be for me? It would actually make you're squirming worse. Defeat my whole purpose. I'm just having fun teasing you. This time. Ready to hear the real story of all the snake oil, pop psych fluff hucksters?"

   "Yes. Please."

   I rubbed the washrag over him, and kissed and gently bit his shoulders.

   "Mm. Such nice manners. You're learning not to sass me. Today's little… demonstration worked wonders. About the only thing I didn't plan on, was the squirming."

   "I'll try not to squirm so much."

   "Hmm. You do that… now then, about my story. Shall I continue."

   "Please."

   "Thank you. Anyways, all snake oil and hucksters pushing it. Lets take the self help gurus and their courses. Did you know that all those courses, are actually the same thing? Every one of them."

   "Really?"

   "Yep. A long time ago, after the depression. A writer wanted to ask all the big men, the giants of industry. What their secrets they had to share were. He found they were all telling him very similar things, and he put it all in a book. That? Was the original, the first, the best self help book. Ever. All the others? To this day and to the end of time… are just imitations of parts of that one book, with different names and words slapped over it. It even says in the original book. All you have to do, is repackage what I've taught you here, and you can be successful helping people too. Right in the book."

   "Honest?"

   "Serious as a heart attack. I'll get a copy. You'll see. Now, onto the be dominant courses. The… be the alpha seminars. Again? All these pop psych fluff salesmen… all they do, is teach their listeners a couple vocabulary words, show simple examples, and all the mesmerized listeners? They go… why, that's Bobby! He's right! That girl? That's Linda! This guy really knows what he's talking about! He's good!"

   "He isn't?"

   "No dear. Anyone that can read and write, could open any introductory psych 101 text book, and copy all the words in big print, and the definitions… and pick out groups of them to make your very own… informative talk show. You're own course on… thing X. Its a trick. They're showmen. They're salesmen. They dangle a shiny thing in front of you, and you're all mesmerized. They give you two, three easy examples? You see that they're right… then? They can tell you the moon is made out of cheese, and you all fall for it."

   "So. There's no magic words, to go with the magic cheap beer… and supermodels fight over who gets to sit with you. Damn."

   "No. Its all… Alpha Beta vocabulary definitions. They give you textbook examples of what the alpha says and does, and what the beta says and does… you sit and go… that's Mike! That's Jerry! Wow, is this guy good or what."

   "No magic beans. Tragic."

   "Oh. It works a little. Not like they advertise, though. Silly mesmerized boys are learning to say and do a few things, that sends the signal that they're the alpha. It works a little. You bang bar whore randoms, out on girls night out. It works enough for that. But… you boys ever notice something? Its all how to be the player. How to score chicks. Not a thing about a relationship. It only works a little, up front. Many things can shatter the girl's illusion, and she suddenly sees through the fairy glamour you boys have been taught to sprinkle in the pickup bar."

   "Ooh. Tell me that stuff. I love when bullshit gets washed away. I like the real deal. It usually takes work to build the real deal, with anything. Bullshit smeared around? Washes away with the rain."

   "Hmm. Crude analogy, but I otherwise like it. You boys might be silly falling for this snake oil, but the girls? Sillier. Read retards Monthly, and that much is obvious. Want to be more successful at work? Wear this, and buy a pair of smart glasses. People will treat you like you're successful and smart, and that will make you feel that way, and bang, you're on your way. Now, you want to drive your man wild, and have him become your love slave and become addicted to you? Easy. This month's centerfold premier article, 11 things to drive your man wild. By the time you get to number six? He'll be eating out of your hand. Now… who's sillier. The boys desperate to get laid more? Or… believing success in business comes from the right clothes, and a pair of fake reading glasses. That a man will do what you say, every day, if you learn number six. I mean, come on now. Who writes this shit, and who's dumb enough to believe it all."

   "Hmm. Depends on what number six is. I mean, if number six was tonight… they could have something."

   "Hmm. Different kind of article, dear. But you see my point. Now. What can shatter the bad boy fake alpha fairy dust?"

   "I'm all ears."

   "You can't become alpha, by learning 4 simple tricks. That's just… sending fake signals. Lots of things shatter the illusion."

   "Like…"

   "Your pack you run with. These tricks start working, when you're out trying them alone, somewhere new? Yeah. You get one night. Now… you brag, and your buddies demand you prove it? Well… go down to the bar in town, where everyone knows everyone. When your buddies give you the shits? The girls realize, you're no alpha. Or, everyone already knows who's who. And if you do land a new girl, what do you do… when a real alpha walks up, and starts running you off, and talking to her? Nothing. And even if you land the girl you picked up out and about? As soon as you take her around your home town, and your home crowd… she suddenly sees what you really are if you're faking it."

   "Ah. Important point you make. To me? The whole game… nothing but a bunch of bullshit, met with more bullshit. I don't play it, I refuse."

   "Hmm. I know who taught you that. You told mommy. Your… quiet hard ass mentor."

   "Yes. He did. God rest his soul. I'm left behind down here. To imagine what else he could and would have taught me. I feel like… my two years with him? I got my Associates, and I was on path to get my Bachelors. See if he wanted me for some grad school. I might have really turned into something great. Now? I might never know."

   "Mommy is very sorry you lost your mentor. He was a real guru, not some salesman, out hawking snake oil."

   "Truer words were never spoken."

   "I just realized something."

   "Yes?"

   "Your mentor. Before he… got called home. He would have came up with your, plan you follow now. The way you… are. Or he approved of this plan. You two came up with it together."

   I heard him sniffle. Then I felt his erratic breathing through his back, reverberating into my own chest. I froze, and you could have heard a pin drop. Because I stopped the jets by bumping the button. Then all I heard was what sounded like a leaky faucet, drops of water falling into a puddle collected on a dish. He was crying, and I could hear the drops hit the bath water. I was sick to my stomach, and I hadn't intended to cause a small emotional earthquake.

   I did what any good mommy knew to do. I put my arms around him from behind and kissed his shoulder and his neck. I shushed him, and told him it would be all right. Within a minute, I felt deep, regular, even breathing, and a long slow exhale. He leaned back into me, the way we started… and it was gone. A little cloudburst that passed before you even barely realized it had struck. Gone. He spoke quietly and evenly. Which was mildly shocking.

   "Yeah. He was always asking me, what I wanted. What the MPs gave me, was it what I really wanted all along? I was their mascot. To the young MPs, nervous? Hey. Look here, this is our mascot. Computer kid, for Christ's sake. Look how he does fine, ain't even his job, its a hobby. Anyone can do it, you just learn. Don't worry about it. You work hard, you train hard? When the time comes your training will take over, and you'll do fine. Now, let's do take downs one more time. Practice makes perfect. Control the head, the big, scary body will go wherever you put that head, long as you do it right…"

   I let him go, and just moved the washrag over him. Therapist 101. When they spill? You shut the fuck up and let them spill. You can't make them, you have to recognize it when it happens. So instead of doodling on my empty scratchpad, I moved the washrag over him.

   "He had me… think what made me happy. Not… the MPs thing. Great as that was, don't get me wrong. What was I into as a kid, what did I want for myself, before I decided to get what everybody else placed value on. Yeah, I was gonna re enlist again, as an MP this time. Already worked out with the MPs, already knew the instructors through them. Hell, I worked with new guys, prepping them for some of the tough stuff. MP school? Scary. For me? Was gonna be a cake walk. I knew what to expect, I already did the rough stuff for fun. They had me doing fun house drills with them for kicks."

   "Fun house…?"

   "You know, you walk through the house, the things flip out at you, you instantly decide whether to grease them or hold off. Split second choice. Instinct. You hesitate? You're dead. You don't hesitate? You pop innocents. You instinctively react. Its fun, but scary. You get used to always having a bad guy pop out at door X. One day? You pop it, and its a cardboard cutout of a cute little girl, in her little PJs, holding a teddy bear. You just blew her face and throat out with 12 gauge buckshot. They mix it up. Any target card, flips around from anywhere, always different every time. Its a walk through real life video game. You learn to just react, instinctively, and be good. When you got it? You got it. Yeah. I was gonna breeze though fun house drilling and all the hand to hand. They told me I was already one of them. Just needed the little tag on my greens."

   I rubbed the washrag, light and slow. I know when the work is being done for me. A good therapist? Knows what to say and when. A great therapist? Same thing, but also knows when to shut the fuck up and let them do your work for you, better than you ever could. So I rubbed my washrag.

   "That all came about by accident. Football players, boxers, wrestlers… they go and try out for MP. Not guys like me. But, some joker in housing thought it would be cute to stick computer boy in with these guys, for why I'll never be able to fathom."

   "Then, he made me realize. My original plan. What I liked as a kid, what I wanted before the happy accident went over good. College. Computers. It wouldn't be like when I was young. I'd seem the same to the new people, but… I'd know what I now had. And he taught me my responsibilities, for his finishing school on it all. Its all bullshit. Don't take the bait. Do what's important, according to the long range plan."

   I kept moving my washrag. The spill had paused. I could now direct the spill to what I wanted. Suggest gently, that's what they're there for, that's what you're for.

   "So what was the long range plan…"

   "What you see me doing. Follow my own plan. Do my own thing. If I want what everyone else has? Then by all means do what they do. If you want something different though, then you better not do what they all do. Find your own path, that takes you where you want to end up. You'll find yourself there eventually."

   "Where's there…"

   "What you see me doing with my computers, electronics. The planning on that. If I just want cute Latinas, fine. If I want something more? Don't do what everyone else is doing, or you'll end up with what they get. I need a good woman eventually. Someone just for me. If I look? I'll never find it. Like… wanting MP stuff in high school. The more I wanted it, the more it eluded me. Like cute Latinas in high school. The more I looked, the more it eluded me. I quit looking for Latinas, and for MP stuff? Universe stuck me right, and I mean right in the middle of both of them, and handed it to me on a silver platter."

   "His advice on girls?"

   "Same as everything else. If you don't want what everyone else has? Better do something different. They meet girls in bars and parties? You better meet them anywhere else but. The gym. The library. Anything but. You want a rich girl? Figure out where they go, and be there. You want a spoiled cunt? Get a job in a nail salon. Now, you want a tall athletic girl? A real tomboy? Gee. Where do they go. What do they do. And, that's how I became a little sports girl groupie. In the gym. Jogging. The universe, has a funny way of putting you right where you need to be though, you just have to let it. The mathematics laboratory. Tutoring mathematics and computer science. I'm there three months, and suddenly I got this fucking conga line, of jocks coming in. Sent to ask for me, for help with math and comp sci. Traditionally, the jock's hardest subjects. Some of these jocks? Had great hair and really nice legs."

   Move the washrag. He's spilling. Keep it going. Adjust the nozzle direction gently, don't touch the faucet handle.

   "How did that work…"

   "Well, nothing hard works. That's why its hard. I was being confronted with one of the labors of Hercules. You must grab the head, of this big, muscular, scary guy. That knows you're trying to do it, mind you. And control that head, and fire him down and then control him and finish him off. I tried it hundreds of times. Finally, I timed it right, I shifted my hips right, my footwork was on… I fucking threw this gorilla ass over tin cups, over my hip, and tossed him like nothing. His own weight and strength do it, and work against him, when you do it right. Finishing them, once the huge guy gets the wind knocked out of him all stunned? That's as easy as spreading icing when you're done. The hard part, is baking the fucking cake."

   Washrag. Keep it moving. Gently nudge the nozzle.

   "Talking to tall, strong female athletes. Another one of the labors of Hercules, hmm?"

   "There's a couple hundred of you girls. Only so many of you are tall and strong. Only so many of you are feminine. Only so many of you are tomboys. I got years. Start going through them. I want different results than the other guys, so do anything else than what's the normal thing. Acting like a jackass, is about normal. Doing the opposite of what doesn't work, is always a great start. That last one, was another gem from the… oracle, before he… you know."

   Washrag, always moving. My lips? Barely moving.

   "And then what… it wasn't working…"

   "Neither was tossing around pissed off charging gorillas all jacked up on steroids. That wasn't working at all, the first couple hundred times. When the only way forward is a locked door? Keep bumping it, gently. Sooner or later, someone will be opening it from the other side, where its not locked. You just gotta be bumping when its happening. The door will open itself, you just gotta be there and be bumping. Just see its open, and walk through."

   Lots of washrag, very little lips.

   "Good luck will come eventually, hmm?"

   "Luck? Good fortune is usually with he who has the most cannon. What most people attribute to good luck? Good luck is just what we call it, when preparation meets opportunity. That was you, by the way."

   "Hmm. How did that go…"

   "I remembered birthday swats. The Christmas swats. Both happy accidents. It… went so perfectly with the… naughty pictures that were coming all along anyways. The secret ones you don't talk about. You swatted my butt at our party. A friendly joke, I stuck it out for you, because you forgot to swat it on the way back. Little jokes. Slave? Pour me another shot of my brandy. Pour yourself another one. I allow you. I have plans to take advantage of you. Opportunity seemed to be knocking. Coffee and a snack? Same thing all over again. Then? Christ."

   "What…"

   "We talked. First date? I asked you, you suggested to meet at the mixer. We agreed, we were even I was asking you out, you were picking the time and place. Even. Second date, I suggested coffee, turned into a snack, too. So, it was your turn, you said, to set the third date up."

   "Was it now…"

   "It was. You said it was a surprise, don't have anything planned for a couple days. You drove me out into the middle of nowhere. Said we had to do it sometime, might as well plan it."

   "I did, didn't I."

   "You did. Older guys teach younger guys, you make the decisions. You control the conversation. This was… I know I want different results. Secret naughty pictures are flashing through. Your jokes… my innuendo and word play… now? Screw taking control of the conversation. To hell with making the decisions. You're doing it. Everyone else, is getting the normal randoms thing. I want something… different. Do the opposite of what all the other guys say to do."

   "Mm. And how did it feel. Having your sports girl make decisions for you. It didn't feel wrong…"

   "Jokes were being made. You set it up. Told me ahead of time, we'd be alone for… whatever. Now? I'm there. You practically kidnapped me. Drinks? I knew what you liked. You showed me at the mixer. I suggested it, you said good idea. I now don't have to worry about how to get drinks going. I don't… have to engineer being alone with you, like other girls. You did it. You gently took charge of… everything. I just had to nod my head and smile."

   "Hmm. Go on…"

   "I mean, everything. You gotta worry about how to small talk a girl, you handled that from minute one. If people would say you lead the conversations? Fine. One less thing I can not do right. Then, there's that big moment. You have no idea what its like to be a guy. You're expected, to just… magically know. Its okay to touch her arm, her hand. Touch her face, slap her on the ass and make a joke. That's hard to do. It takes courage. You do it too early? Too much? Ew. He's creepy. No way. Take me home. Do it too little, or too late? Oh gee, sorry. You had me there, for about an hour? But… sorry. The moment passed. Oops."

   "Women are such spoiled cunts…"

   "They can be. I'm expected to read minds. Guess correctly. Fucking feel everything. If I ask anything? I get rolled eyes. If I have to tell you? Then its just not working. If I tell her I'm trying, help me out? Oh. The right guy? Doesn't have to try. You girls might not realize, the courage it takes, to just grab you, touch you, kiss you. Know its going to be right. Its scary. Any guy who says otherwise? Lying. Until you get all the experience, you can't know. Can't get all that experience? Without knowing. Its scary, its frustrating. Then when you finally get it right? You're just being used. The show boyfriend. She fucks everyone else but you."

   "Almost all girls, yeah… what about me…"

   "You… showed me what you drink. You… grabbed my hand. You touched my arm. You touched my face. You took me aside in the corner, and grabbed me and kissed me. You talked about what you wanted to talk about, small talk. I just had to… be there. You even? Well… you kind of told me it was time to go home. Text you to say goodnight when I got home. So we can plan on something else next time. I didn't have to… do anything."

   "Hmm. Yes, I remember sending you home. Politely. There was another girl there eyeing you up. Some little girly girl slut. I kissed you some more, and sent you home. Text me, we'll set up the next date. I'm not having my man poached. I want a man that… lets me lead. If you went home when you were told, piece of cheese was getting the next date if you did it? Well. I need a man that lets me tell him. You did. How did it make you feel though… having me… gently guide you with everything."

   "Oh. That. I mean, yeah. I can hear all my guys at the gym's voices in my head. Dude. There you go. You're fucking it all up. Again. You be the man. You tell her. Show her you can make decisions. Girls like that. If you can't take control of the conversation gently, how the hell do you expect to take her by the hand and lead her into the bedroom. Wake the fuck up, Wiz."

   "Hmm. Standard advice your friends give, little boy. Works on… really, almost all women. Why didn't you follow their advice, hmm?"

   "My mentor. If you want the results they're getting? Do what they do. But if you want something different? Don't follow all the advice. In fact, do the opposite for a good start. So… doing everything wrong? Instantly produced the best results I could have hoped for. Little fun sex jokes? You made the first one, not ten minutes at the mixer. Nice one, too. Swatted my ass. You took the reins. I stuck my ass out for another swat? There you go. Another sex joke. Great. Sex jokes and innuendo? Check."

   Washrag keeps moving, its my magic washrag now. My lips are allowed to move a little more. I'm going to get this washrag bronzed, I think.

   "Ooh. Little boy has a little checklist. Tell mommy all about it."

   "Little jokes about sex? That goes to chemistry. You did it first. I followed, went great. Check. I gotta figure out what you like to drink, and if I have to ask and guess wrong? Oh, it's just not right. You? Put your own bottle on the table. There. That's what I like to drink. Then? The nature of almost all the little jokes. Had a secret code. A theme. Call, answer. God that gave me tingles. Hoping. We have to drink together, I can't mess that up. You put a little glass in front of me. Here. I allow you to have some. Again, you did everything for me. And another secret coded theme joke. Called me slave, said you were going to take advantage of me. Ooh. More tingles. Hoping. Check, check, check."

   "Mm."

   "You grabbed my little checklist, and checked things off for me. You grabbed my hand and held it. Hand holding, check. Hanging on each other. You put your arm around me, and led me around and introduced me to people. You put your head on my shoulder. Check, check, check. First kiss? You grabbed me and kissed me. Check. I need to get some action though, or there's no chemistry, how am I going to… you led me to a dark secluded spot, and shoved me in the corner and made out with me. Check, check. Fuck. You grabbed my clipboard a couple times, checked shit off for me, now I only got one left. I need to sugar lips you into the next date. You… grabbed my hand, led me outside, and kissed me some more, then pretty much told me it was time for me to go home. I was told to text you when I got there, for the next date. Check. I'm a software engineer kinda guy. I can't argue with a new computer program I'm trying out, when it does the checklist for me."

   Washrag, magic washrag. Keep it moving. It has magical properties…

   "More. Mommy wants more… give your mommy what she wants, little boy…"

   "I was handed a full checklist. Told to go home, and report in with texting. Well… shutting up and doing what I'm told has gotten me this far… fuck it. Shut the fuck up and go home."

   "Mm hmm. You do realize, your location came up on my little phone when you texted or called. If you stayed, after I told you to go home? I knew. I watched your little dot run straight home. Most guys would have stayed there after I left, just because they can. The little girly girl was eyeing you up, to poach you off me when I left. I'm well known to go home early, any man I'm with at a sports mixer? Ripe for the plucking then. But you? No, you listened to your new mommy. I'm not exaggerating, either. You ran home, didn't you? You didn't have your bike, unless you caught a ride…"

   "I'm tingly all over, my hearts racing. I'm in shape. No… I ran home and wanted to text you and see about that second date, before something comes up and fucks my shit up."

   Washrag…

   "So. You… had no problems with your sports girl, making all the decisions for you, did you? I keep asking you, how did it make you feel. Tell mommy."

   "Oh. The nature of the… jokes and innuendo. Swats. Slave jokes. Taken advantage of. I'm doing my happy dance. Now, did this feel different? Oh yeah. It was weird. But… I got this checklist done for me. Second date? You handled it. I mean, you made me pick. I picked coffee, my standard thing. You suggested where to go."

   "I did. How did that date go?"

   "Hell. You told me what date and time, and where to show up. I remember you telling me don't be late. How did that feel? Weird. Different. But whatever. Checklist rolling. More… themed little jokes. You smiled a lot. You led me through conversations. You touched my arm and my hand a lot. I'm supposed to be maintaining body contact, keeping the innuendo going. You did it all for me, I didn't have to do a thing. Another full checklist handed to me. Just sign here. I remember you even went up and ordered for us, and brought me food and coffee back. I started to give you money, you told me to shut up and eat."

   "Mm hmm. And what did you do…"

   "Full checklist. You were just getting started hinting we should plan the next date, so… look at your checklist, shut the fuck up and let it happen. I mean, I'm noticing a trend."

   "My girlfriend works there. Girl from the psych department in my classes. I, get free coffee and fountain drinks and side dishes when she's working. A long as its nice and busy so no one notices. So yeah. Be here at this day, this time, don't be late. Money? I already knew where you lived, and could figure out your budget. I wasn't interested in your money. You didn't seem to have any problems letting me handle everything else. You seemed to like it. So yeah… it was my turn to pick. Mommy set up the now magical third date. I told you in advance, it was our big weekend."

   "You… made all the decisions. You…"

   "Say it. Go on."

   "You… decided it was time to have sex. You… conveniently took me away for a long weekend. You basically told me. This day. This time. I'll pick you up here. Be there. Have a bag packed, for this many days."

   "And what did you do?"

   "Well, the object of the checklist? Is to get some. Once again, you told me what to do. I just had to pack my bag, and show up on time. Knowing, what was going to go on. You… basically told me, I was going to put out now. Be prepared."

   Magic washrag. Clockwise, always clockwise. My magic wand.

   "Mm. My little boy is getting it all now. And how did it go when we got there? Summarize for mommy."

   "You… small talked me, kept touching my arm, my hand. More jokes, more innuendo. You'd already told me, I was going to put out, so. Once again, throw the checklist out, all I gotta do is be there, and shut up and smile and wait to be…"

   Washrag. Clockwise. Always, always clockwise.

   "Say it. Wait to be… what."

   "I'm basically showing up. Waiting to be… fucked."

   "Hmm. That's right. I'll handle all the details. Just show up, and I'll fuck you when I'm ready. And, how did that little mystery go, hmm? Your gym boys advice work there at all, I wonder…"

   "Uh, yeah. Right. By that time? I'd thrown out the rule book. I want that last check mark. Sex. You got that covered. Yep, all your paperwork's in order. Sign here. You'll be fucked when she's ready for you. How will I know its time? Oh, don't worry. You won't miss it. Just sit tight."

   "Hmm. An accurate assessment, all humor aside, really. And tossing out the rule book with mommy? Probably one of the smartest things you could have done. How hard was it to take me by the hand, and lead me to the blanket, huh?"

   "You talked when you wanted to talk. You… kissed me when you wanted kissed. Then, after dark."

   "Go on. This is getting good."

   "Well. You had me listening to the radio. You brought up the… jokes."

   "I did."

   "You started the conversation. You told me, we were both making jokes. It was obvious. Then… you just threw it right out there. Next thing I know, you got us talking about it. Like we're discussing the weather."

   "What did I get us talking about?"

   "Birthday swats. Towel snaps. I'm pretty sure you mentioned, that a naked butt was more fun to snap a towel on. Next thing I know, we went from the usual jokes we do, to you get us talking openly. You did it a couple times. I did it once or twice. You said we both made the same jokes as feelers. Now? Why not have some fun, we both did it. I'm like holy shit, it can't be this easy, but… I forget exactly how it came about, somehow touching the radio became the signal."

   "You were in that conversation with the radio, we both were. It was another conversation I… steered in the right direction. Did you have to ask for it? Not really. I know you're going to be shy about it at first. Touch the radio. You'll get your swats. You touched that radio and smiled. You got your swats quick, didn't you?"

   "I did."

   "Uh huh. I had no idea if you were going to want more than the usual, fun love pats. But if you do, just touch the radio again… you touched it not soon after. You couldn't wait. You wanted some marks you could see. You were all excited to finally, get what your naughty compulsion had been showing you pictures of. Got what you wanted, hmm? Tell me."

   "You… had me over the hood of the car. Naked butt. Little game of not moving my hands. You even gave me a few… hard ones, so I could see if I wanted that. I remember… you ordering me around. Finishing me off. You even made me fuck you like you wanted. A rough ride."

   "Yes. How did all that make you feel."

   "It was strange. It was different. You… just knew what I wanted, and gave it to me. You asked if I'd ever been tied up. The third naked butt swats would be the hard ones you previewed for me. You… had a little game of getting more out of me. You just told me, I'd need tied up. I won't lie. I was into this too. I couldn't believe you liked it, and weren't just being nice seeing what I wanted. I… didn't want this to end, so. I figured if I gave you more, you could have all the fun doing it, you wanted. I… wanted to be your thing for that. Wanted you to know, I was there."

   "We both wanted something that's hard to find, and harder to ask for. Embarrassing to ask for it. I had no idea how much you'd go for. I'd never been that far down the road. You kept asking."

   "Then you just told me I was your boyfriend now. Like, oh yeah its Friday night, and by the way? You're my boyfriend. Get used to it. We'll start doing this every time."

   "I did. I also remember telling you, that when we got back? I got this free luxury townhouse. I'm allowed to have one guest stay in my room any night I want. You're it. You'll be moving in by the end of the month. We're top level starting athletes. Free housing. Dietitians at this level, give us all the best nutrition to work out on that a person could ask for. You like to work out. Luxury townhouse. Best free food, all we can eat. Hey, you get to peep on eye candy. You get to see my team mates, running around in the their T shirts and underwear every day and all night. A month? I think it took a week."

   "You… as long as I keep the rule book thrown out? You take care of everything."

   "I do. I told you my plans for us to do grad school, probably get doctorates too. I even told you. You don't cheat on me? You don't pick up and leave? I'll just tell you when its time to get married. If I get the first good job between the two of us? I honestly want to get us a little farmhouse. Privacy, for obvious reasons. I want you to finish your work, not worrying about anything. I think it might be important, I wanna see it happen. If I can make it happen? I will."

   "All I have to do, is shut up and enjoy it."

   "That's about it. If you have a better plan for us? Tell me, I'm all ears. We'll discuss it. Do… you have such a plan?"

   "No."

   "Does it bother you? Are you enjoying things the way they are. They way they're going. You looking forward to us having our own townhouse to ourselves, for our graduate school time?"

   "I… couldn't come up with a better plan. And, you know I love the whole deal."

   More magic washrag. Clockwise, always clockwise.

   "Now. You touched the radio as many times as you wanted. You? Started asking for… more. All eager, like you were that first night in the woods. I gave it to you, didn't I?"

   "Yes. Were you making a little pun, you gave it to me?"

   "Oh. Good one. But, you asked for it. I studied it. Made sure you wanted it. Here we are. You seem to be having more fun than ever, am I right?"

   "You seem to always be right."

   "Does mommy seem to be right? Or is mommy just right. You're free to answer either way, no official penalty. We're in the tub."

   "Mommy is just right."

   "Thank you. Now then. Let me recap. From the moment we met, I said yes before you finished your sentence. I handled the entire checklist. Second, third date. I told you it was time for sex. We know how that went. I told you, that you were my boyfriend now. You were moving in. It all made perfect sense. We're probably doing grad school, then if this goes well that long? I'll just tell you its time to get married. Notice anything strange about me?"

   "You… made every decision from day one. I couldn't get a better result if I tried. Why fight it. I even get all the… kinky fantasy sex I could ask for. Bored millionaires, don't have it as good as I have it. I love you, I'm a lucky man."

   "Thank you. I feel like a very lucky girl. I love you too. Now, just answer me this. What am I?"

   "Oh. Well, you're obviously… dominant to me."

   "I am. And you? What are you."

   "I'm submissive to you."

   "Do we both seem to like it?"

   "We sure seem to."

   "Now. Don't take this the wrong way. Its not a put down. You'll see why in a minute. If you were allowed to tell all the guys at the gym. All about us. They would say… something along the lines of… she sure wears the pants. My god, Wiz. Dude, she's planned out your whole life, in a couple weeks. Why don't you just wear a saddle, and let her ride you around town. Be the man, Wiz. You're being the bitch. How am I doing here…"

   "I think we both know that's… more or less what would go on."

   "In case you wondered? I'd get teased, about as bad, for… my part I play. I'd get the opposite thing, but the same thing, from all my girls. We're even that way."

   "We are."

   "Question. Have you ever once been with a girl like me? Dominant like this."

   "Never. You? Are my first."

   "What people would say aside, how's it going. Between us."

   "Well… perfect, so far."

   "Okay, back to the… pop psychology vocabulary. I'm not dominant. That's just the layman's buzz word. I'm dominant sexually. Now, to the layman, that brings up the notion, that I'm into whips and chains, and I wear high leather boots and whip naughty little boys."

   "Well… you kinda do."

   "Yes. But let me explain. Being sexually dominant? To a real professional, that doesn't mean I'm, whip girl in bed. What it means, is that I like to be in charge of the relationship. From the moment we met? I lead the conversations. I make decisions. And yes, I choose what I want in the bedroom. That doesn't mean all dominant people are the one with the whip. It means I'm in charge, naturally. What we are with how we enjoy sex? That's a totally different classification. I'm a top, you're a bottom. It just happens to line up with most people's layman's understanding of the words dominant and submissive. Me and you? Could just as easily have ended up with you putting me over your knee, and I enjoy it. Does that confuse you?"

   "It seems… it sounds…"

   "I know. Sexually dominant, don't let the word sex throw you. Sexually, to a professional, refers to the man and woman's relationship. Sex orientation? Is different. I could just as easily have been a bottom, and you a top. I would be in charge of the bedroom and the relationship just the same, except I'd have been directing you we would play those roles. I would be directing you, to top me. I would demand, to be your bottom."

   "I'll have to take your word for it."

   "Pop psych buzzword bingo bullshit has everyone outside the field, full of misconceptions. Now, it felt strange and different to you, when I took the lead and made decisions for us… simply because you're not used to that. But you admit, its just right for us. It feels right, yes?"

   "Sure."

   "Now. Most men, are sexually dominant. Most women? Are sexually submissive. That's in the relationship. That's in making decisions. That's why, all the traditional advice we both hear? Doesn't work for us, like it does for everyone else. It doesn't mean, I think I'm a man, and you act like a woman. I'm not the least little bit lesbian, and you're the farthest thing from a fruity boy as you can get. The only reason, we both like to keep this a secret? Is because we don't want to hear all the bullshit from everyone."

   "Okay. But… you're an alpha, in the relationship, and in our naughty sex games. I'm your… beta both ways."

   "Yeah, that's why we're having this conversation. More pop psych buzzword bingo. Alpha and Beta? Are personality classifications. Totally different arena. Now, everyone knows that the Alpha is the leader. The Beta is the follower. A few men are alpha men, the rest are betas. They're the followers, the rest of the pack, right?"

   "Yeah. Its obvious. Look at the big guy, the rich successful guy. Alphas rule. They attract betas to follow them around."

   "Yeah. In buzzword bingo. So, you get all these how to score with babes, bullshit courses. How to be the alpha, and unlock your true potential, your keys to the kingdom. Its all snake oil. You can learn to imitate an alpha, but, it'll never last. Your personality classification? Its a combination of things. Mostly how you're brain's wired, how your chemicals regulate. Its genetic. Alphas are born, not made. Betas are born, not… beat up and go into beta mode. Its genetic. You probably think, because I direct the relationship, make all the decisions, and it works… that I'm an alpha female. You probably think, that because I put you over my knee for naughty time, that again, that's more proof that I'm an alpha female, right?"

   "Well…"

   "Not my personality type. Outside of my personal relationship with a boy? I'm not dominant to the rest of the world. That's just in my private life. I'm not a beta, either. There's other personality types than just alpha and beta, everyone gets hung up on those two terms. You also probably think, that because I lead the relationship, and because you go over my knee, and we both like it that way, that you're the beta? Get ready for a shock. You're definitely not. You being submissive to me, in the relationship, you being my bottom during sex? Does not make you a beta. You have a completely different personality type. Sorry to shock you."

   "Really?"

   "I shit you not. You quit listening to the… radio pop psychology shows, you quit reading the bestsellers, and crack open a real university textbook? You'll see it."

   "I'm not an alpha. At best? I was the mascot. I know who the couple alphas were in the MP group, I was just a mascot. Now, my mentor? He's an alpha too. A quiet hard ass alpha."

   "No. You're all caught up, like everyone, in the type A, type B, alpha beta dichotomy. That's old news, its like 1982. There's lots more than just that now."

   "I'm just not an alpha. I can't possibly be. I'm just a beta that was taught to fight. I'm not a scary alpha, I don't even like to be scary, when I know I can. I prefer to avoid the whole bullshit game the rest of the children are playing."

   "No. You're no alpha. I've been… studying you, since we hooked up, very closely. Watching you carefully. Listening to all you tell me. I see how you react to different things. You're not an alpha… you, are actually something far, far scarier than any alpha could ever hope to be. You don't even know it. You? Get ready for a shock. But… you're the one thing that an alpha is terrified, of running afoul of."

   "What?"

   "We noticed decades ago. There were other things out there than just alpha and beta. A lot of them flew by, under radar. There's some rare personality types. Look, tens of thousands of people were interviewed, facts checked. Alphas interviewed at length? Almost all of them will tell you an eerily similar story. They're the alpha. The big, confident guy. Yeah, they're in charge around town. Alphas butt heads sometimes. But, every one of them, all had the same story. They were doing their thing, playing the role… and they ran into this guy. The quiet polite guy, always sat by himself at the bar, no one knew much about him. Just… another beta. Quiet, mild mannered. You challenge him? Hey, I'm no tough guy. We're good."

   "Sounds like a nice guy."

   "Yeah. Until the alpha got out of line. Or, was pushing other people around, and no other alpha was there to put him in his place, to butt heads with him. After all these times, never making any moves, never bragging. Out of nowhere, the unknown guy… takes the alpha aside. Told him politely. Hey. Big guy. It's fine, you're the man. But… I'm telling you this, where no one else knows, don't want you losing face. You need to quit grabbing girls and making them kiss you when they say no. You need to quit taking the little guy's drinking money, and buying beers. You're scaring women, you're stealing off of guys that can't stand up to you, you better knock it off. You can go tell everyone you told me how it is, I won't say what we talked about, but… knock that shit off."

   "Every alpha tells this story…"

   "Every one of them. If this didn't happen to them? They watched some guy come out of nowhere, and do it to some bully alpha. Now, when you confront an alpha, they have to respond. They can't take it. Here's this little beta, challenging them. They have to put him in his place, like they do everyone else. The problem is, they had the great misfortune to run into one of these rare personality types. Its a sigma male. They're almost all intellectuals. Quiet. Keep to themselves. Like to be alone. They… don't care about money, status, pecking order… all that normal stuff everyone else is obsessed with. They tend to think differently. They have unique strategies to solve problems. But, when there's a threat? It happens so often, there's a name for it. Its called sigma lightning."

   "Sounds like something out of a superhero book."

   "You can see an alpha coming a mile off. They approach you directly. Openly. Sigma males don't. They avoid conflict. They stay out of conflicts. But… when they strike? Its like lightning. You don't see them coming. They plan. They're crafty. They have their own set of rules. You try to bully them? They're smart, and they get results. They don't care how they get them. They strike like… we call it sigma lightning, for a reason. They plan, they set you up. They play chess usually, and they're thinking three moves ahead. They know you're coming, and when they strike, you didn't expect it."

   He gave me a glib example.

   "You find the bully, face down in a pool of his own blood, in the parking lot, back alley, bathroom. Doesn't even know who got him, its a thing with head injuries. The bully gets confronted in the parking lot at work, in his own driveway."

   "Yeah. You don't call it that, but… you know exactly what sigma lightning is. Don't you. Your mentor. I'm going to go out on a limb here. He didn't take everyone aside like he did you. He picked you out."

   "Yeah. I felt… special. I had to try to live up, to what this guy wanted. I mean, he taught all the other tough guys, how to do things better."

   "Yes. He was also an intellectual. Probably played chess. Talked a lot about the philosophy of things. Deep thinker. Really strong morality streak, really deep sense of poetic justice. How am I doing."

   "Like… you were there and had lunch with us."

   "Uh huh. Older sigma males, locate young ones, and mentor them. Its what they do. They pass the craft on, master to student. He's gone now, and he still has you being him. You're mentoring all the army fighting guys. You're the strong silent guy."

   "I… owe him that."

   "I know you miss him. You said he was one of the most important men in your life, after your own father."

   "He was."

   "My grandma. Used to tell me, they can see us. They can hear us. He's somewhere right now, pointing down. That there, look. That's my boy! I taught him all that. Look, he's passing it on. He stays out of it, he doesn't take the bait, he's above it all. I'm sure he's proud of you."

   "Thank you."

   "You're welcome. I'm sorry you lost him. Now… do you see why I don't date much? I'm dominant in my personal life. A regular guy, is dominant. Even if he isn't? Other guys have ruined him with their typical advice. Be the man. Take charge. Women love it. Show her how its going to be, they need it. She's challenging you, to put her in her place. Most women. Not me. I can't waste my life, butting heads with some inflated ego."

   "So the last thing you want, is a bad boy. Or a guy acting like a typical jerk."

   "Exactly. I'm dominant in my personal relationship. I need someone submissive, in their personal relationship. I lead, gently. They follow, in private. In public? We appear normal."

   "How many… have you found before me?"

   I hugged him around from behind him, and put my face on the back of his shoulder. Little kisses.

   "Really? A couple. But, all but one were… ruined, we'll say. By men around them. They didn't understand why they were doing what worked for the other guys, and it wasn't working for them. So, they doubled down, and sought out more advice. It made it worse. I guess, the only one that was naturally submissive, and that's a minority of men, just like I'm a minority of women… and wasn't ruined by all the advice… was my pre med student."

   "The one that…"

   "Yep. Him. He went away to medical school, he's gone. Then I found out that my team mate sport-fucked him. You? The only other one I found. That didn't mind it, being different. So, you're not going to come home one day, all charged up with great advice. How… you're going to wear the pants, put the little lady in her place?"

   "No."

   "It doesn't bother you?"

   "Whatever works, works. I do like unique strategies that get results. Its why I'm the Wizard, programming. People look at how I do things, they scratch their heads. I don't care what other people think. If its good for you, and its good for me? That's all that matters. Question?"

   "Of course, little boy."

   "Pre med boy… I guess you…"

   "I what?"

   "You know. Like you had fun with me, on our third date. He went over your knee."

   "Oh. Um, actually. No. I explained, that being dominant in the personal relationship, and directing the bedroom action? Doesn't necessarily mean that my partners were all… naughty boys that way to me. I was in charge in bed? Definitely. I'm the girl that gets on top. I tell the guy when I want my once a week rough ride so I can walk funny the next day. But we didn't play any… naughty games. I made a lot of jokes, but he never picked up that ball. I made a lot of innuendo. Dropped a lot of hints. Hey, lets try this? Something new. He wasn't at all interested. I need a submissive in the personal relationship, and to be submissive to me in bed, but… what people call kinky? That's just a bonus."

   "So, how many…"

   "I… have snapped a naked butt with a wet towel, but never went past running around third base. We were young. The… farmhand I hooked up with at a county fair traveling with my show? He was the first guy I liked that was confident enough, that way, to ask for mommy to take her belt off. A lot of guys, couple drinks, can be talked into a few birthday love pats. But… to say hey, you liked it, do you wanna try it again? No. It was a fun thing one time, they think its weird to further it. You're the only one I went… down the road with that way. Now, that said. I won't lie to you…"

   "Hmm. I'm sitting down, I'm ready for anything."

   "Nothing bad. Me and the other two Caballeras? We hung out at the campfires with all the other farmhands staying at the county fairs. Everyone knew we were the… bullwhip performers. All farm and ranch people. You can easily imagine, some boys might come and… its a dare to get a crack from one of us. Hey Bobby. Twenty bucks says, you won't get a lick on each cheek from one. Take the bet?"

   "Aw, you gave bullwhip licks, to any guy that wanted one? Naked butts getting it, every summer."

   "No, dear. You'd be amazed even through the jeans, what a lick can do. Me and the girls? We thought it was funny. We'd paste one wicked one on, through the jeans. They'd scream and hop around, and wouldn't take the other one. We all did it. And no, none of the girls were… naughty with boys like that. We all asked each other, did you ever? No. It was a good summer job, we all just grew up on farms and happened to drive bulls. Happened to look okay in the costumes. Its also a good summer job. I bought my own almost new dirt bike I always wanted."

   "Hmm. How much trouble am I in, if…"

   "If you're just about to be accusing me of being a liar? I'll give you the polite suggestion, that its not the smartest idea you probably ever had. Now. That said? We're having this conversation. And, we're in the tub. This is our normal time. Also, I understand where you're coming from. So. Ask what you're going to ask, say what you were going to say. No fear of any penalty of any kind. But. If, and only if? You take the utmost care, to phrase it respectfully. Think. I could just as easily not have admitted this. But, I want you to know you can always trust me. So. Say it politely, ask it with great respect due to me? And you will suffer no penalty."

   "Thank you."

   "You're welcome. Go on."

   "Not one single time, did you get asked, to… you know. Not as a bet for fun in front of the group. Like your cowboy was confident enough to ask for mommy's belt to come off. Like he was the only one, who ever asked. On the side. I'm not calling mommy a liar, I'm saying it would sound thin."

   "Hmm. Very good. See? I taught you a thing or two about your manners when talking to mommy. You ask politely like that, you ask permission respectfully. Its fine, during normal time. Now, to answer your no penalty… question. No, there were no naked butts got licked by my bullwhip, on the sly. There were, however. The occasional… request. Some jokes, some innuendo. Then a request. All us girls got one of those once in a blue moon. Some boys must have been… curious, we could say. Now. Do you want mommy to tell you how I handled those requests?"

   "Yes please. If it doesn't land me in hot water."

   "You're fine. I grew up around whips. Normal on a farm. When I started practicing with the bullwhip, on rainy days? Sure, I think I told you, that was about the age I started getting… early naughty ideas. What age did you get your first naughty ideas. Hmm?"

   "Oh… around the time I started liking girls, I think. Early teens. Didn't understand the thoughts back then. Thought I was weird. Didn't tell anyone."

   "Sounds the same here. Now. If you had been approached by some girl you found even a little bit attractive, and she seemed intent on being alone, and then suggesting things. Would you have had any problem, accepting an offer to… get your butt smacked with your jeans on? What the hell, right."

   "Oh. That…"

   "Uh huh. Oh, its your birthday? You need your birthday smacks. Through your jeans. Just for fun…"

   "Uh…"

   "Oh. Someone would all of a sudden be a whole lot less embarrassed of that idea. Hmm. Now… reverse the situation. Guys were… acting awful curious about it. You wanted birthday smacks, and if it was offered? You'd have been there with bells on. Well… how could I pass that chance up. The first such request? I said I'll get back to you. I asked one of the other girls. You ever get this kind of…?"

   "And…"

   "Yeah, once in a while you get one of those. Pffft. I think its funny. What I do, is I bet them 20 dollars. They won't stay bent over for ten good licks. Five each side. Two dollars a lick. Now, if you don't sit for all ten? I get the two 20s. You make it to ten good ones, without coming up off that hay bale? You get both 20s. You're curious? I'm curious. Look, you got 20 bucks to head to the concession stand or the midway, and you didn't even do anything. I get one or two here and there. Ain't had one of them sit for all ten. Honey, you just paste them on as good as you can, take your 20. Best part is? Later on you see them, walk up behind them and give their jeans a good swat. Watch them dance and run. Its the funniest thing ever. Have fun."

   "You did this?"

   "Jeans on. No sex. Some boy wants me to put licks on him? Not like I'm not curious too. The other girls did it, they're not even into it. Why not."

   "I think I'm jealous."

   "You don't have to be. Through the jeans? I can't rip skin. It can rip the jeans. It leaves one motherfucker of a welt, a couple of them told me later. You have no idea, what a hard one is like. Most of them jump and scream and run, after the first one if I paste it on good. Best I ever had, was I got 2 or 3 a few times. I think the record was 4. But, I never lost my 20 and I made their 20, every single time. Plus… I got to feed my… secret naughty compulsion, that I was still ashamed of back then."

   "I think I'm definitely jealous."

   "Yes. And do you know why?"

   "Why…"

   "Because. To you, and me… we know its something sexual. Even with clothes on, through jeans. Just for a fun bet. To the rest of the world? Its nothing. Its just silly. But me and you, we know different. We know something's going on, we just don't know what's going on till we're older."

   "I'm not in trouble, for being jealous?"

   "No dear. Not at all. But you know, there's no reason to be jealous. You can have 10, or even 20 licks through your jeans, if you wanna see. I won't take your money. But… you've never felt a hard one. Don't be surprised what happens."

   "What will happen."

   "What do you think will happen. When I say good licks, you know I mean the lash stroke. The crack. Right?"

   "Yes."

   "All right. You've had some. Several, actually. Maybe you don't believe me, that those are teeny, light ones. Barely fast enough to make the crack sound. You've heard the loud cracks I can make. They sound like gunshots going off."

   "A hard one, would rip through my jeans?"

   "It takes the back pockets off. That's a double layer. My first two cracks, breaks both pockets. Now? I got a single layer of old jeans. I'm telling you. One, they jump up and scream usually. Maybe two. I'm pretty sure the record of four, sitting for it? He had some beers in him, and he still screamed and jumped up."

   "So, I wouldn't be jealous anymore."

   "Hmm. If you want to be mommy's next… curious cowboy? I'm fine with it. But I'm telling you. You screamed from a couple really light ones. I'm calling this impossible. You want 10 or 20, hard ones? With jeans on, for safety? Sure. The old desk down there, that's your hay bale. You want tied over it? So you can take your 10, your 20? We'll wait until you have a clean bum, then its no problem."

   "Well. I do want whatever your… curious cowboys got."

   "Hmm. Tell you what. When you finally manage to stay out of trouble long enough, mommy gets a clean bum to play on? This would qualify as… what I would classify… severe punishment. In fact… this? Could even replace the trip I'd originally planned. You know, you're little graduation whipping. You see, its impossible to rip skin while the jeans are intact. Which means, I can develop full power. Remember now, little boy. One or two is the average before they can't take any more and scream and run. Four is the record, and I could smell beer. So yeah… tied over the desk, for 20 or more? I would consider that very serious."

   "Hmm. I'm going to get the… serious working over, at the end anyways. This would be a good introduction, I guess."

   "All right. You're on my list. If I get a clean bum to work on, I'm gonna do it. A strict mommy? Doesn't need any reason, I told you that. I'm gonna prove it to you. General purposes, will go towards respecting what I can do to you. Respect? Is fear. Plain and simple. You'll be afraid after that. I did tell you, part of this program? Is that you actually become afraid of me being mad at you. I need to see some tears when I take my belt off before I'm done. But, if I do it with my bullwhip? Fine by me. I'll leave your jeans on. You? Will get tied over the desk. I'm gonna gag you nice and tight, too. I'll give you 20 good licks. 10 on each side. I'm guessing, and I'm pretty sure… after that? All I have to do is pull it out still coiled up, and give you the look and a sharp word. I bet I get puckering up, and a few tears."

   "Now I'm less jealous, and more nervous."

   I whispered in his ear.

   "You should be. You dared me. It happens now, first chance I get. You're going to be afraid of me. Just like you asked for, when you kept asking me to do this. You like a scary ride? This will be the big roller coaster."

   "You? Are a naughty mommy."

   "Hmm. I am. Very strict, too. Now… let me think. What else was this talk about…"

   "Let me know."

   "Oh, yeah. Sigma males. We knew there were other things out there, in alpha beta land. The sigma males? They got called all sorts of things, before they were identified and studied, as personality types. They were rare, odd ducks. They like alone time, and prefer large amounts of it. They don't need relationships, not like everyone else does. Alphas and betas crave relationships. These guys are fine without one, but they get into relationships, when they find what they think is right."

   "Now, they function alone fine. They don't need a group. And even when in a group? They still spend alone time. Being alone? Is torture for most people. Not these guys. Doesn't bother them a bit. When in a group? They function as any other beta. Only for a good alpha. They won't be in a group with a bad alpha. Or, they take them out. The weird thing is? They function as betas, and like it. But… when threatened, or the need arises. They jump up and do the work of an alpha. Particularly, when no good alpha is around. They can replace them, but only temporarily, then they prefer to go back to being a beta. The don't like to lead, they like playing beta. Even better, actually. They don't have the need to confront directly. They just… bang. Lightning strikes. No warning."

   "Okay. A lot of this? Sounds… familiar."

   "I know, right? Hmm. what else. Oh. Phases. Every personality type, can be good phase or bad phase. Each one has an official nickname. Good alpha? Leader. Bad alpha? The bully. Sigmas? Their nickname finally became… the Lone Wolf. Good phase sigmas? Run alone, or when in a group, function as capable betas. They'll provide temporary leadership if no alpha is present, but won't stay at it. They leave quick. A group of betas alone? Are useless. They crave leadership. They'll draft a new leader if one disappears. When they find one? They just all show up at his house, hey, what are we doing today. Hey, we need your advice."

   "The good sigma, is highly prized by any good alpha. They need help, they seek the advice of the sigma. Always ends up their right hand man. Group mascot ring a bell? This is usually the number two man in the group. Alpha is on vacation? Everyone looks to him. They think its silly, but will do it. What do you mean, you guys can't handle one weekend without Bobby? You guys are killing me. I got stuff I wanna do. They drag him out. They need their temporary alpha."

   "You're sure about this, are you."

   "Definitely. The MP leader, had his group… you said yourself… kidnap you, and started taking you out. Good alphas locate talent for the group. They draft talent. You? Had special skills the alpha wanted for the group."

   "Smart guy. Computers are everywhere, not everyone enjoys them like I do. I spoke somewhat fluent Spanish…"

   "Yep. Good alpha drafted you. Alphas can be intelligent? They don't need to be. They just locate what they need, as resources for the group. Then, you're a sigma. I'll prove it. Group mascot. What was your function? Spanish, computers and smart guy stuff."

   "Electrical, electronics. Oh yeah, I also ended up programming those little radios. You hook them up to a computer, you can set a file to do all the frequencies and names of the channels. Everyone loved 'computer boy' doing the radios. They were always adding a channel, and moving one around. They, uh… liked my trick. They liked me to add an extra channel. Off the books. That channel they could all talk on, day or night, working or after work. Without base recording and listening. If you wanted to talk on the radio, off the record? Use my secret channel."

   "See. Drafted for talent. As mascot? New guys were nervous, to throw gorillas around. Hey, no sweat. Look… quiet computer boy does it for a hobby. They saw a normal sized guy. Quiet, polite. Computer guy. He does it, okay. They can do it too. You said yourself, you were used to provide early training, for the new MPs."

   "Yeah. I was."

   "Bet the leader, used to ask you if you had any ideas on stuff. Hey, let me bounce this off you…"

   "Okay."

   "Good alphas take polls, and they pick the best idea. I bet you had, weird ideas to solve problems."

   "Hmm. I heard, that's just so crazy, it might work. Heard that one a lot."

   "And? You functioned as a temporary alpha, when the need arose. Remember, you saw the big, drunk gorilla Marine got away from your buddies? You drove ahead, and ambushed him. Handed him to them. Gift from out of nowhere. To the gorilla? You were a bolt from out of the blue. He got struck by sigma lightning. I'll bet? He never saw it coming."

   "The MPs? Let me guess. They use authority. They confront you directly. They play alpha. Not you… you got ahead, you hid. You waited. Then you struck. Strategy. Cunning. Dangerous and useful. I bet that you played it off afterwards, too. I also bet, that after that? They started recruiting you to become one, when you enlisted again. They wanted you. To train new guys. Quiet follower, who could handle anything that came up. Classic sigma male. Any leader's number two man. Handles anything, never challenges his authority, advises him and provides unique strategies, never takes credit. Loyal to a fault. You were groomed by a loner sigma, that they looked up to. Hand picked."

   "Its like you were there… its almost scary."

   "Once I identified you as a sigma? The rest becomes obvious. You can predict what an alpha will do. Easy. You challenge him? He has to confront you, openly, directly, publicly. You can bank on it, and plan for it. Betas? Predictable. You challenge them? They fold. But you? Wild card. Maybe stand and fight. If the odds look good. Or, run and hide. Not impressive, but if its the best option, you do it. You don't care if you're made fun of. Its the best strategy. Or, you might suddenly go from beta, to taking out a bad alpha, in the blink of an eye. Lightning strike. Or, you pretend to fold, several times… lure them in… then? Bang. You? Can't be predicted. Good alphas? Love you and draft you. Bad alphas? You terrify them. They know you guys are out there, and they know they'll never see you coming, like some alpha approaching."

   "Mommy?"

   I was hugging him from behind, biting his neck softly, some kisses, too.

   "Yes…"

   "What are you?"

   "Hmm. I thought it would be obvious. But, let mommy take you through it, step by step. I forget, its not your field. So… ready?"

   "Yes mommy."

   I kiss in between words, soft bites on the ears.

   "Who protects the all skill players in games? Protects our stars…"

   "Mommy does."

   "Uh huh… and who plays den mother, to the three most important players. Our best starting front line, in the last ten years."

   "Mommy."

   "Yes, I do. Now… do I like it? Or can I not wait to go live by myself, with just you and me. Hmm?"

   "You only do it, because its what's best for the team."

   "Yeah… who mentors the new young stars, that need shown the ropes. Now, not shown the ropes like you get, mind you. You get mommy's special attention, when mommy shows you the ropes, little boy. But… who protects poor Little Lightning, from the team, when they were jealous? Who was her big sister, and protected her from the very unnatural advances, in the locker room and showers. I put her in the corner of the shower, and you have to get through me, to lay a finger on her. Who…"

   "Mommy."

   "Right again. The coach? The big alpha. Who is his adult… the only one he can trust, to advise him on things he needs to know and can't find out for himself. The girl he sends on little secret missions. To do what needs done. Off the books. The one who makes sure there's not a speck of cocaine or meth, but… the one he can put the secret word out through, that pee tests for pot are coming. Tolerated, with a wink and a nod. Who is his right hand… girl. Called coach's pet, doesn't care. The team needs it."

   "Mommy."

   "Uh huh. Does mommy crave the approval of what all the other girls think is the in thing?"

   "No. You pretty much do the opposite."

   "Yep. Am I not content to do without a boy, until I find what I need? You've asked around. You know I didn't leave a trail of boys in my wake… admit it. Compared to all the other girls? I'm practically a nun. A very naughty nun, to you, but… still."

   "You are."

   "Oh yeah…"

   "Mommy does things totally different, and doesn't care what other people think. Mommy did everything for you. Like a boy does, for a girl. I made all the decisions. You? Just had to show up. Mommy held your hand, made it all happen. Mommy checked your whole list off for you. You? Are mommy's little groupie. And? You admit, you love it. For the first time in your life, you see how nice it is? To have a big, strong girl take charge, gently but firmly. And? All good things come to you, if you listen. Tell me I'm wrong about anything."

   "You're not wrong."

   "Hmm. Who spotted what you were. No one else. Submissive in a relationship, craving a dominant female. Had a weird strategy, too. No giggle hair flip, giggle hair flip. I knew you'd be around. You were working your way through all the girls that look anything like me. I was next, or soon. Soon as you started asking? You didn't finish your sentence. Yep! Took charge immediately. You were done right then and there, little boy. You? Were caught. Admit it."

   "You caught me. I admit it."

   "Oh yeah. Who knew just what you were. Naughty boy. Needed punished. Craved it, before you really knew yourself."

   "Mommy."

   "Uh huh… who just told you. Be logical. Here I am. Just what you can't have, and trying your little ass off. Weird strategy there. Thinks and plans, just like a boy. Logical. Dared you to find a flaw in my plan. I stripped naked, and stood on my head, so you could see just what you're getting… not chubby, don't make that mistake. Just look… got that body you want. Just look at my legs, and see if you can tell me no… have you ever even heard of a girl like that, much less ever seen one. Admit it. Mommy called it. Mate? In three."

   "Mommy checkmated me. I was… I went from a date, to boyfriend, to told I'd be informed when I was allowed to propose marriage, in I think the space of a couple hours, if that."

   "Much less, if you don't count waiting for dark, and getting you to the birthday love pats, for a taste test…"

   "You worked quick."

   "Very quick. How long before mommy had your second whipping going? Finished you off issuing you orders? Hmm?"

   "Not very long…"

   "Quick. I tricked you into touching the radio the third time, already knew you wanted it… had you tied up, naked, getting whipped hard, until you bawled… and knew you were loving it. Not liking it? Loving it. Already my steady boyfriend, knowing you would be married, before you were helpless, naked, and begging me for more… you were done, the moment you set foot in my car, little boy. Admit it. Mommy worked quick… you never saw it coming, before it was already too late, and you were drooling for naughty time…"

   "It was very quick."

   "Once the drive was over? Waited for dark… within a couple hours, tops. I had you kidnapped, and was using you, like a helpless sex crime victim. No one could hear you scream… and you admitted to me, you loved every crack on your naked ass. You were begging me for more. What do we call an attack like that, again? That cunning, ruthless strategy. There's a name for an attack like that…"

   I was softly chewing on his neck.

   "Lightning. Its called sigma lightning."

   "You never had a chance. Bolt right out of the blue. I had my eye on you? Then, I found out more… you crossed off every damn thing on my list. Everything. What I want, what I need… all except one tiny detail. My naughty time. When you made the first joke? I knew. You went from perfect? To completely perfect. Mommy had a whip and rope in her trunk, bandannas to play with… mommy was prepared."

   "It was…"

   "Yeah. I know… and from the first time? You asked. Every. Single. Time. Yes. Then more. Then more. Now? You asked for more again. You wanted what we're into now. We're both naughty. You? Can't replace me. I? Could never replace you. Sigmas? Are best understood by another sigma. We're both kinky, yin and yang. I'm dominant. You? Submissive to me. Our goals? Identical. Every value? About the same. You can get dressed, and walk right out the door… but you won't."

   "Are you done gloating?"

   "Mm. You love it. And sigmas? All have a feature in common. A super enhanced sense of loyalty. What's mommy's number one rule, above all else."

   "No cheating."

   "Uh huh. How serious is mommy about this rule…"

   "If I ever do it? I better be smart enough not to even come home, but to collect my shit and clear out."

   "Oh yeah. And what happens, you have the balls to try to get away with it, and it comes out. Like it always does…"

   "I get… sigma lightning."

   "Oh yeah. Tricked? Into the absolute worst, possible, situation. I've been showing you? I'm fully capable of it, ain't I? Admit it. You know I would do it. Bad…"

   "Sure seems like it."

   "Seems? Fuck you, you little slut. I'll whip the skin, right off your ass for making a joke about that again. You know I can, you know I will. I want you to take it back, right now? Or I'll correct your naked, wet, ass? Right here, right now. Dare me… go on. I double dare you to test me…"

   "I take it back."

   "Uh huh. You know better. And? Not worth it anyways. Not logical. What could any other girl, even do for you. Not like I can. There would be no point."

   "There wouldn't."

   I was chewing on his neck and kissing it, ridiculous and slutty.

   "Yep. Mommy's going to have away games. Overnight, weekend stays. You'll know they're coming. Little problems? Too easy to plan. I'm working on you, to make sure you won't get into any trouble… school will be in. Mommy? Gets a free pass, administration rules. But you? Have to stay. Mommy loves your enhanced sense of loyalty. But just for insurance? Yeah. You're too important to risk. Mommy? Is gonna mark you all up, right before she goes away. You're gonna have my name and number on you, all tramp stamped up. Plus, mommy's special marks, and real bad, too… you? Will be too shy and embarrassed, to even think about dropping your panties for some little bar whore."

   "Mommy? Trusts you just fine, and will still make sure, I can sleep just fine. Then? When mommy gets back? You get all the special treats you want. You're gonna be allowed to hate-fuck my little bum by then like you wish you could, get a wet sloppy, or? Mommy will whip you hard like you want, fuck you across her floor, anything. Anything the naughty little boy asks for… now, what could you possibly want more than all that, hmm? All you have to do, is be loyal."

   "The rewards? Too numerous. The risks? Too high."

   "That's right… but right now? You, are one or two days, into a special six week slut preseason camp, little boy. Trapped alone, with a sick and twisted, very strict and very dirty mommy. I, am gonna have some fun with you in my bedroom. Real soon. I'm gonna correct you? On a number of little things that could stand some improvement. You, are gonna thank me for doing it. And what's more? You'll mean it. Because… why?"

   "You own me. I'm your property."

   "Exactly… because as I demonstrated tonight, several times, then one, final, terrible, time… I have complete power and control over you. Body and soul. Your will? Is not your own. Its mine. It hasn't been? Since our first night together. Mommy knew this would happen, and told you. You wondered about that. I knew, you would ask for more, every time. I'm going to do, the dirtiest things you can't even imagine to you, for the next six weeks. You're going to love every minute. I know it, you know it, no one else suspects a thing. You? Haven't even been punished severely yet, for telling me no. You will be though. Soon. Probably not tonight. But, it will happen."

   "My free will, will become an illusion."

   "Uh huh. I told you, then sent you and tricked you into the radio touching. The third time. I never did this stuff before, but I read all about it, after you started making jokes. It was my naughty compulsion anyways. I was ready, just in case. Now… you've been squirming. Mommy? Is going to give you something to squirm for. Right here, right now. In the tub. Sounds hot, don't it."

   "It does."

   "Then? Early yet. Gonna take you in my bedroom, and work your ass over some. Now. You asked me, for this not to be a game. You? Asked for it to be real. That would be so hot. You? Asked to be forced. Again? That would be in your own words, so hot. You got forced tonight, didn't you?"

   "Yes."

   "Mm. I know. Not a game anymore, is it? You were forced, to submit to me. Completely. I told you… painful, humiliating. You'd be ashamed, and embarrassed. It was that way, before you even got started, huh. Tell me, little boy. Did any woman, ever, do anything even close to the things I did to you?"

   "Never."

   "And I'm going to do those same things to you? Again, and again. For weeks. Except? More. Hmm. How was it, to get your little bum cleaned out like that. Tell me. Be truthful."

   "I…"

   "Humiliating, wasn't it?"

   "Very."

   "Get used to it. Gonna happen again, and again, and again. I recorded it? Gonna make you watch it some night… along with all the other dirty things mommy did to you. Now. Right this second? I'm gonna give you something to squirm for, since you keep doing it. Move forward some…"

   I stood up.

   "Now. Grab mommy's toy. Hold it out, for me to step into. Then, you're gonna fix it for me, just like I taught you to do it. Aren't you?"

   "Yes."

   I slapped him across the face. A little bit hard.

   "Normal time is over. Properly. Again. And? You'll be corrected for that little slip. In the bedroom, probably. Again!"

   "Yes mommy."

   "Better… now then…"

   He held it for me to step into, then slowly adjusted my straps. I had no trouble at all, getting him to to give me some respect. Without the tube gag, I just tapped his head and listened to the little gagging noises. I giggled, had fun with it. Told him how lucky he was, that I'd left it in the bedroom. Then I sat down where I had been. Slowly. His eyes were glued to my wet, tan legs. His fingertips traced out the muscles. I slid my legs straight out this time though. I had him come and sit on me. Facing me.

   He knelt for some intimate face to face time, and I had him lower himself onto it. My smirking face had the bemused expression I had often enough, always amazed at all the dirty things I could get out of him and get him to do. After some extra slutty kissing, I had him reverse himself, and sit down on it facing away from me. I teased him how easy it went in, how little lube had been needed just now. I said the dirtiest things imaginable to him in his ear.

   "Now. I promised you something to squirm for, little boy. Squirm for mommy…"

   I hit number 4 suddenly. This thing is all waterproof. I don't know exactly what IPX68 even is, he says its a measure of waterproof. It works fine. When he asked me to fuck him like I meant it, I laughed.

   "Nope. I'm all tuckered out, from doing all the work tonight, naughty little boy. You. Pick up a few minutes of slack for me. Go on… move around yourself. You touch your cock? I'll fuck you up. I want you nice and hard, for when I take you to the bedroom. Told you that I was gonna work your ass over for a while, before bed."

   I giggled at this show. I couldn't believe I was here. Not here in the tub in that sense, but here. I was actually physically sore and tired out from fucking, no check that… from raping my boyfriend. I had readily enjoyed my shower attentions and heartily loved the tub attentions. I didn't know I could get that sore and tired from fucking that hard. I put my leg up on the edge of the tub, and watched his fingers trace down my calf muscle. I flexed my calf for him, and let him feel it, then relaxed it as he rubbed it.

   My calves had that warm slight burn. Somehow being on my tiptoes gave me a slightly better angle delivering the jelly rubber goods to him while bent over things like the table, the counter top, and the end of the couch. For my leg massage in the tub, I had him give special attention to my calf muscles. I was surprised I was able to hold him up in the air, clinging to me for dear life. Hold him up against the wall in the corner and give him more. We both felt it right then, the surprise of it.

   I could actually do it to him. Women rated positions for sex surveys and women's magazine polls. Up against the wall was always one of their top favorites. Their notes were that the trapped, helpless feeling was the fun part. Knowing their husband was strong enough that he could hold them up and do it, was always noted. Now I was in that club. He got off on having a strong girlfriend, and I got to give him that.

   The naughty website I frequented definitely noted that a mommy having her submissive up against the wall was a gold star position to pull off, but the guy usually had to be seated at the right height for most women to pull it off. I pulled off the full Monty, by holding him up in the corner and delivering the goods that way.

   My thighs burned from the effort, and I would ache and pay for this the next morning. Getting started running would be the worst, then I would loosen up some. Then? Oh god. The after workout shower and bath and day spa. My own private heaven I was creating for myself. I knew I was getting sore to see how great it would be after a real practice or game.

   "Turn around. I wanna see your face while you do it."

   I got a little jolly every time he remembered to address me correctly, to avoid another correction. I smiled watching my little private performance.

   "You can drop the mommy. But keep fucking yourself. This is fun. Hmm. Embarrassing, isn't it. Having your dirty little ass cleaned out. Mommy cleaned you out thoroughly, didn't she?"

   "Yes."

   "We just kept doing it. All that hot, soapy water. Squirted up into your dirty little ass. Plopping that plug into your butt, like a cork. I watched you squirm. Then made you sit. Pulled it out, and heard you empty out. You should be humiliated. Then, we kept doing it. Over and over. So you'd have a squeaky clean ass, when mommy started raping you. You know why? It was for practical reasons, naturally. I was going to ram that thing into you, to get that first one started. Told you, right the fuck in. Can't have you shitting all over my bed. So? A nice, long, hot soapy clean out. Just the thing, to clean a slut's dirty little ass. For a nice, long, hard fucking like you got."

   "But it was for more than that. I don't want to smell you the whole time. Squeaky clean like that, was way better. You think I wanna pull out of your ass when I'm done fucking you, and see slut poop on me? Yuck."

   "But, in the end? Oh, that's right. You like puns. That's a good one. In the end… in your end, I should say… it was also to see your face, getting cleaned out. Over and over. Then hearing you thank mommy, for cleaning your ass out so thoroughly. By the time I'm done with all this? We're going to have all the shame out of you. I'm going to be able to do anything with you in bed when I'm done, with no problems, no questions, no sweet talking you into it. No more shame, for the naughty things we do."

   "Hmm."

   I took my foot, and ran it up and down his chest.

   "Grab that nail file. The big one. There we go. I don't cut my nails, I file them. When you file your nails, instead of cut them? It needs done way more often. If you do it a little bit every day, it takes no time at all. Just like wiping the kitchen down after every snack and meal, so you don't have to scrub everything like hell when you finally need to do it."

   "Feel the waterproof file. There's a rough side, and a smoother side. The rough side, is for quicker work. Like when you let it go. But the smooth side? Is for touching it up every day. You've seen me do it before. Let's get started. Smooth side. Keep it rounded. Be careful, you have to get just nail. No skin and burn me. Gentle… yeah… there you go. Now, do all of them."

   "Not bad for your first time. Be gentle. Be careful. After my foot massage, and I already have you doing the stone? This is getting added to my little spa treatment. I have to care of my feet, wearing those damn soccer spikes every day for practices and games. Or I end up with icky girl feet. You want mommy to keep her cute feet, right? So… take care of them."

   "You always see pictures of farm girls, running around barefoot on some ranch or whatever. That's bullshit. You think I'm running around in animal shit all day, squishing shit between my toes? Fucking disgusting. So no, mommy wore boots on the farm. Like any normal human being. That barefoot shit on the homestead? Its just for pictures and movies. I guess they think the girls look cute like that."

   "I didn't sit around like other girls, brushing my hair, giggling as I tied ribbons in it. Taking care of my feet, so I didn't get ugly feet out of it, was probably one of the only girly things I did when I was young. My work boots were one thing. The mud boots were another thing. Your feet sweat down in these rubber things, and… its just something you have to do when there's deep mud around, or snow. I couldn't wait to get those things off."

   "So, after I got cleaned up and I was in for the night? Yeah, I walked around the house and my room barefoot all the time. You can't live in work boots and rubber boots all day, and not dry out every night. So… that's why you see mommy running around in my bare feet when I'm indoors. I'm not one of those people that go… oh, I just love to be in my bare feet… whee. I think that's silly."

   "And… some women do the same little kid shit, and walk around barefoot outside all day, for BBQs and stuff. Its dirty and disgusting. That's why I have a decent pair of flip flops. So… that's why mommy has cute feet at this stage of the game to give you. Some of the girls in the locker rooms must be lazy, and they have yucky feet."

   "You can't come back from laziness. If you don't stone down the callous? You end up with hard things that look like shit. Not to mention, you can get a corn. Then, it starts pushing your toes around, and you're fucked. That's another reason I like the hot soak, not just for being sore."

   "Well. Like I said. Not a bad job for your first time. Hmm."

   I held out one hand at him.

   "Do mommy's fingernails. Both hands. Work one through ten, then go over them again and again. Light, gentle pressure. Don't shove, don't rush it. Be extra careful at the corners… if you pinch skin there, you'll hear about it later."

   "Hmm. Not bad. Do my toes again… just like these…"

   "Hmm. Not bad, for a first timer. Now. Put the waterproof file back where it goes… good."

   I put my feet on his chest, and looked at him. Made him wait to see what I'd say.

   "Kiss my toes, little boy. Each one. Go…"

   I watched him kiss each toe, one by one. Then start over and do it again. At this point, I'm not really into this. But its fun. Of course, I wasn't that into humiliation rituals all that much. But it grew on me. Making someone you have power over do things they might not want to, wasn't something that appealed to me before this started. It wasn't one of the themes to the naughty pictures that flash into my mind.

   Now, exercising that power I had was growing on me, little bit by little bit. I had gotten the idea for the humiliating little extended butt cleaning ritual, from the one website I was reading. Raping your male slut with a decent size toy was apparently a common thing. A lot of other mommies reported doing it various ways. Hand held vibrator toys was one of the most popular. You started by tying them up or handcuffing them helpless. You took your time having them anticipate what was going to happen to them, what you were going to do with them.

   The hand toy crowd discussed it enough, it had its own section. Having them secure and helpless was obviously the starting point. The first tiny one was used, and they all said you got to enjoy the complaining, as they realized what you were doing to them. You were to enjoy this initial complaining and many liked hearing the begging and pleading not to do it to them. It was agreed that it was most fun to tease before doing it, giving the impression that if they just begged and pleaded hard enough, and pitifully enough, it might protect their poor little butt virginity. The mommies all said they would promise anything at this stage, if they had virginity back there.

   Of course, it was just extended fun. It always ended with the toy getting used. You were to describe it to them, and eventually laugh and tease them. Surprise them by finally turning the vibrator on and laughing at their sudden movements. The next most fun thing, was making sure they realized they were hard. You told him, look. Proof that you enjoy it. If you didn't like it, why would you be so hard. You showed them it was proof they were a slut, that they enjoyed it.

   You could do this every night, and have a ritual of tying them down for it. The second night, they got it just like the first time, except longer, and with more movement. You told them they were now being fucked. The second time, they got the next one. Slightly thicker, slightly longer. Now you enjoyed more begging and pleading, more promises. More fun. Which ended with that one being used.

   Night after night, they got tied helpless. Legs spread for humiliation, as bigger, thicker, and longer toys got used on them. They got fucked harder and faster. You always had the fun of pointing out how hard it made them, what sluts they obviously were. Most of them agreed, you saved one huge one. After the last night, when they got one after the other slowly, giving you longer fun time, you showed them the giant one that was left.

   You let them ogle it, realize how thick and long it was, how painful and uncomfortable it would be. How much extra humiliation it would entail. They said the real fun was using the tip or the first little bit on them. Letting them feel the initial stretch, taunting them how bad it would be, to stretch their little hole out for this to fit in. A newer, longer and more intense round of begging and pleading and promising.

   Most of them liked to save this huge one for the threat. You teased and threatened them with it. How you could just lube it up and shove it right in, how would that feel.

   I hadn't gone that route. I just got a toy I could wear, which was the other popular camp to this butt raping your new slut ritual. Make sure its at least as big as him, and preferably a little thicker and longer. Mommy's is bigger, little boy. They all agreed that the introductory rape was the most fun in many ways. You could make it take forever, to maximize the fun. They had to be helpless for the initial rape, unless you were able to completely physically control your slut. The few women who could actually rape their man physically, reported it was huge fun. The extended begging, pleading, and crying before it got going. And the final noise and waterworks when eventually it turned into the bang at the end.

   My kitchen table had been the site of my taking his little butt cherry. Some mommies liked the helpless tied ritual for ongoing rape sessions, and others liked to turn it into the way I had. You already showed them it fits. That they can do it. That they enjoyed it, they got hard and finished quickly when you tugged them. Now, you don't need tied. This camp claimed it was even more humiliating of a ritual, because they had to let you. You were exercising more power and more control over them, demonstrating that you could now command them and they would comply with your twisted demands.

   I raped him so many times, I lost count. I hadn't known I would enjoy the one where I got dressed, and unzipped and pulled it out so much. But I did. I was going to remember that one, and have him over the hood of the car for a quick rough ride eventually, that was for certain. I was getting off on all this, and hadn't realized how much I would come to like it, or how quickly.

   "All right. You don't have to. But… you can do more than kiss them. They're clean. We're in the tub after a good shower. I won't make you. But if you do? I'll think about letting you sleep in the bed tonight. Instead of freezing on the floor all night like last night. Naked, chained to the bed like a slut. Do it, and you can sleep in bed with mommy. Feel mommy up against you under the covers, all warm and snuggled."

   Of course he did it.

   "Good boy…"

   I told him he was done, and stood up suddenly when I felt like it. I was getting better at the bored, distracted, whatever the hell I feel like attitude. I leaned my hands back against the sink and snapped my fingers. Dry me off time. He rushed to comply. I walked off to the bedroom when I was done, and he knew to go about gathering up things like towels and washrags for the washer. When he made it into the bedroom, I was standing by the bed with three long chained handcuffs dangling from one hand, the other hand pointing at the bed.

   "Face down. Time for your nightly correction, slut."

   New ritual. Discovered by accident. Long chained cuffs in front and behind. Wrists secured at his hips. Ankles long chain snaked up through the back handcuffs. Helpless. One bandanna tied to the middle of the other. Feed one in, knot the other behind his head. The extra quiet bandanna gag. I grabbed the ankle chain and held him secure and extra helpless for tickle torture. Nightly correction, nightly small torture. Any error, anything less than perfection, anything I thought could use the slightest improvement. Anything I want to add.

   I start with about one minute of tickling, to get it started. Brief pause for safety breathing, while I softly inform him of the first correction. Then he gets tickled longer than the start of it. Then a little pause, and I tell him the second item. Then more tickling. Longer. We go through my entire list, and anything else I can think of. When we're done, he gets a nice long one.

   A new ritual, and I like it. We'll do this every night. Little slip ups in dressing or undressing. Anything that stands out that I feel could be done a little better next time. I added filing my nails in the bath at the end, so that got the longest tickling. I let him compose himself at the end. Then, when the gag comes out, he knows I get thanked for correcting him. He's been told it better sound sincere, too. I got the slow, nervous thank you this time. Feeling around for what I might like best.

   "Not bad. This? Will be done nightly. Good chance to go over things, keep you moving. I expect constant improvement. This should get shorter, not longer. By the time we're getting near done? I expect you just get the short one to start it off… then the long one at the end to finish it. And if the same item keeps popping up on this list? That's not good, at all. That? Shows you have no respect for me. That? Tells me that you must be lying when you thank me for correcting you. I'll have no choice at that point, other than to take you down to the basement. Where we'll have a nice, long discussion about that item that keeps popping up on the list."

   "If you don't appreciate nice, polite correction? You can compare it to the long, severe punishment. I'm not even fucking around with hurting my hand anymore down there. Mommy's belt is going to come off quick. And mommy's belt is going to stay off. For a very long time. You'll get lots more than just the belt, trust me. If you want to get the paddle used on your ass for a couple hours? I'll be happy to do it. When you don't take polite, gentle correction seriously, it shows me you have no respect for me. I won't tolerate that, for one second."

   "Do we understand each other, little boy?"

   "Yes mommy."

   "Well? We better. And don't get any weird ideas, that just because the girls are home, that I'll hesitate to do it. We can just be going out for a nice, long, romantic walk in the cool night air. I demand your strict obedience, and I'll get it. One way or the other. If you test me, you will not be happy with what happens, on these nice, long walks."

   He thanked me and promised me to no end.

   "We'll see. Now. Let's get you out of there…"

   I released him. The new ritual of locking the cuffs, clicking them slowly in tight, each one individually, in order. Then going over them and doing the double lock, in the same order. Ritualistic helplessness. Then undoing the double locks, one at a time, in order. Followed by slowly unlocking each cuff, and slowly releasing a wrist or an ankle. Release ritual. I've already noticed, than when he's naked with me and I play with a cuff, clicking it slowly and wrapping it around and doing it again… just the noise of the cuff clicking slowly, makes him hard. He stares at me doing it, and I smile back.

   He's standing naked in front of me after being released, and I'm thinking. How do I want to play with him before bed. I find myself clicking one of the long chain cuffs like this, playing with it idly. He's staring and his cock is twitching. I'm smiling. My naughty compulsion shoots me a snapshot. We're with people. The girls are having people over for one of their little parties. I'm playing with my new key chain, the little thumb cuffs that organize my little metal key rings. He'll notice me playing with it, and get uncomfortable. Getting turned on by the sound, and I'll smile. I know what its doing to him, and then watch as he gets uncomfortable, trying to hide his growing hardness. Making sure he sits just right. I'll smile and do it more.

   "All right. Go kneel at the foot of the bed. I wanna play with my slut some before bed. There's really no point in training a little slut, if you don't play with it to enjoy it."

   I enjoy sitting at the foot of the bed, to get the ritual groveling. The little kisses and licks I like. He's kissing my toes now, too. Good.

   "All right. Enough. Eyes up here. Mommy likes having her twat licked. Correcting you, makes mommy moist. I want a nice, clean twat. I want this nice and slow. I want to enjoy this. Now get your face up here, and let's get… where's your collar?"

   I got stammering. I pasted a nice slap on his face, and demanded he go get it immediately. He returned with it, and knelt and offered it to me. I muttered under my breath and I put it on, and locked it. Put the key aside.

   "I thought I explained to you, while I was fucking you hard, how much I enjoyed seeing you in this. What do you have to say for yourself?"

   I flicked his "slut" name tag a couple times, while I got the stammering answers.

   "When we're alone? Naked? You'll wear it. I'm not waiting for tomorrow night to correct this little slip up. I'm going to correct you right now. I have a chair right there, at my desk. Go stand by it and wait for me. Go."

   I handcuffed his hands behind his back, then his ankles. Short handcuff chains for both.

   "Don't just stand there. Put yourself over my lap. Don't make it any worse than it has to be. Let's go. Now."

   I shoved the bandannas, still moist from his tickling into his mouth and knotted it tight behind his head. Ritual. I rubbed the paddle over his ass and felt the squirming because he knew what was coming. I hissed at him.

   "You'll sit still for this. You're lucky I'm too tired to take you in the basement. Your collar is important. It shows respect. It shows you like being owned by your mommy. When you forget to wear it? It shows you don't respect me. It shows you don't like being owned by mommy. If you don't respect me, and like me, enough to wear your collar like I explained to you downstairs? Then this is what happens…"

   I put the music on nice and loud, and brought my hand up from below the collar and dragged his head down. Locked his legs between mine to hold him securely. Ritual. I gave him a quick, hard, intense paddling. Fast, hard cracks without stopping. I got the tears and the pulling quickly. He got something to cry for, then he got something for moving around, then he got something to scream and pull for. I turned the music down enough he could hear me.

   "That? Was for not wearing the collar like I told you."

   I turned the music back up, and repeated it longer. Then lowered the volume again.

   "That? Was for not having respect for me."

   Then I did it longer, as fast and hard as I could. The results were spectacular. Keeping nicely marked up cheeks guaranteed quick results. I could have gotten great results just from my hand, but wanted to make a better impression.

   "That? Was for not liking me enough to do what you know I like."

   Then I put the music up loud again, and gave him a nice, long session. I had the nice, squirming hot mess of tears and crying over my lap I wanted finally. Music down low now.

   "That? Was so you don't forget it. Now knock it off, and be quick about it…"

   I rubbed his ass and tapped it gently with the paddle, while he calmed down. The jumping and fresh bursts of sobs with every touch was fun. I'm positively wicked now, that I enjoy this so much. When he had calmed down just enough I could get intelligible speech out of him, I untied the effective double bandanna gag, and didn't have to wait for what I wanted.

   He thanked me for correcting him properly, and it was sobbed out. I shoved the gag back in and tied it again. I turned the music up loud, and really gave it to him. When I was ready again, when he was ready again. I whispered in his ear.

   "That? Was because it didn't sound sincere enough to me…"

   This time when I untied the bandanna, I got thanked more profusely, scared little sobs every time I rubbed or tapped his ass with the paddle.

   "Hmm… better. Now stand up."

   "Now. We're going back to the bed. Again. I'm getting licked, like I wanted."

   I grabbed him and half dragged, half carried him to the foot of the bed.

   I sat down in front of him, and pointed with the paddle.

   "Kneel. Kisses first. We'll start all over again."

   I enjoyed my groveling, my little licks and kisses. Toes kissed again.

   When I was ready, I dragged him upright onto his knees, and got his face into my moist slit. Every once in a while, I leaned over and gave him several cracks. Told him to do it better. I got a nice, long licking in this fashion. I love when I'm done, how I wipe it on his face.

   He needed no prompting whatsoever, to thank me for letting him lick me. What a rush. So much better than the reports I got from other girls. They don't want to, or they do it for ten seconds to get it over with. Or they use it, to extract whatever else they want extra from the girl. Or its a rare treat the girl has to beg for. Not mine. I intended to get it done regularly, at great length, and enthusiastically. This is about training my slut to please me. Whatever I want. I want this, and I'll get it. Its my fault if I'm not pleased fully. I will be.

   "Not bad at all, slut. We'll work on that. You'll be perfect in no time. Licking mommy, is one of your most important duties, if you want to please me. I will politely suggest that you take this very seriously, and learn to get it right. Now. I want fucked. I'm going to tell you what I want, and you're going to do it."

   I manhandled him up onto the middle of the bed. I saw on his face downstairs earlier, when I was finally able to rape him standing up, crowded helpless into the corner, how much he liked it. What else was the point of having a girlfriend big enough and strong enough to move him around, I guess. I can move a young calf around that weighs as much as him, so I know I can do it. I dragged him bodily up onto the bed, and got him on top of me. Still handcuffed behind his back, helpless. Ankles still cuffed together, helpless. I had him laying on top of me, at my mercy. Paddle in my hand, menacing him with it under his chin.

   "I want it slow. I want it nice. I want it gentle. I want it to take forever. I want light penetration. I want just the tip in, and you make it take a long time, to get those short little strokes long enough to be all the way in. When you finally get in? You move around and make me enjoy it. Nice and gentle, nice and slow. You're not allowed to come, before you're given permission. You're going to learn some dick control, little boy. Practice makes perfect. You even think you're getting ready? You better come out and wait, then start all over again, from the beginning. You come inside me? You're going to really get it. You come before you're allowed? I'll give it to you good. Not gentle, like you got being corrected for not wearing your collar. I have a chair right there, and we'll have a nice long talk about not listening to what I say."

   I gave him a constant stream of instructions, to low music. I swatted his ass with several hard cracks at will. Mainly for not going slow and gentle enough. I got kissed how I wanted, when I wanted. My neck licked and kissed and gently bit, on command. When he finally pulled out and paused, I told him he was a good boy.

   "Now remember, start all over again from the top. You take your time getting it back in. Go even slower, take more time. That's better…"

   Girls report guys are into quick fast humps. Quickies. I like that fine, but only when I want it. Sometimes, I want it long and slow like this. Its impossible to get a guy to understand how much we enjoy it. I'm going to have no trouble at all when this is over, I'm sure of it. The fault is mine now if I don't get every last thing I desire. Going extra slow and gentle like this, done long enough, gives a girl pleasure. The long, slow gentle sliding along the clit eventually makes for a nice little orgasm, and I wanted mine. I just took it, so I got it. After I had mine, I told him to go fast and get finished. I spurred him on, with constant paddle cracks. Faster, faster. You're allowed to come now, get it done. Don't you dare finish inside of me, you pull out and go on my tummy.

   He finished in no time, and obediently cleaned up the mess he made on my tummy. I kissed him like a slut for a while. I could taste my slit on his mouth, I could smell it on his face. I could taste his tummy mess, too. Dirty, slutty, wet kissing. As long as I wanted. I cracked him with the paddle at will all through it. Little tears for this were fun. If the little tears stopped, I made them reappear with cracks. I smiled when I did it. I don't know how long I enjoyed this, but I lost track.

   When I was done, I told him it was over. I got thanked again and again, for teaching him how to fuck, for allowing him to be inside me. He begged me to be allowed to do it more, whenever I wanted.

   "Shush. You're welcome. When I want it slow? I get it slow, just like this. You take your time. When I want a twat concussion? I'll tell you. You're very lucky, you know. I don't make you read my mind, what I want. I'll just tell you, then you can give it to me. This wasn't too shabby. We might be starting to get somewhere."

   I went through the releasing him ritual. I got him up, and was just about to give him some instructions, when my phone went off.

   "Well, well, well. The girls are staying with the boys another couple days. They must be getting something fun. Let's see about the bad kid…"

   I got a text back she was fine, and I asked her if I could have another couple days enjoying birthday fun, that the other two were extending their boy time as well. She must be having fun too, her reply told me.

   "Well. We have the townhouse to ourselves another couple days. More birthday fun. Now…"

   I pointed with the paddle, where we usually put my clothes he took off.

   "I told you, you get more chores until training is over. Here's one of them. You're going to wash all my clothes for me, then fold them neatly. You put my practice clothes in that bag, where you know it goes. Just stuff them in. My regular clothes? Are the ones that get folded neatly. They go in these drawers. Neatly organized. Like you see it now. I see any dirty clothes on the floor, ever? You'll get a lecture for it. As soon as my clothes hit the floor? The instant you have a free second, they go into the washer. The washer gets run? Every night after bath time, with the towels and washrags. I expect it dried and neatly folded, and everything put away where it belongs."

   I pointed the paddle at him now.

   "You want me to start to be the least little bit impressed? Then make this the first time, the only time I had to tell you something. Then just show me you can do it from then on. Now. That reminds me. One more issue we're going over…"

   I locked his wrists behind his back nice and tight, and held him by them, marching him into the bathroom. I pointed at the toilet with the paddle, and hissed at him.

   "Kneel…"

   I lifted the seat, and inspected everything. I grabbed him by the head, and shoved his face into the bowl. I tapped where I indicated with the corner of the paddle for emphasis.

   "See that? Get nice and close, so you see it…"

   I cracked him.

   "Again…"

   We did this for a while, while I enjoyed some tears and a little sobbing.

   "We're alone now. I know its not me doing this. Means its you. I'm the only one who wipes this thing off. Now? You're going to wipe it off. Every night. The sink and this toilet, get wiped off. After bath time, when you're gathering up the wet towels and washrags? Great time to do it. And if I ever see a drop like this again? I better not. You wipe it off, if you do it. Now… let's make sure you hear me…"

   "Lick. You made a mess? You clean it up. You don't like to clean your mess up the nice way? We'll do it this way."

   A nice couple cracks.

   "All of it! Clean it all…"

   "Again!"

   I put the lid down, and tapped it with the paddle.

   "Whole thing. Its just my ass on there since I wiped it down last time. You're little tongue has no problem with my ass, does it? Lick it clean…"

   I swatted him the entire time. When I was done, I pulled up on the handcuffs, and marched him back into the bedroom. I sat down on the chair. I clicked short handcuffs tight on the ankles. I pointed at my lap, and tapped it with the paddle.

   "Let's go. I'm gonna make sure you don't forget these polite instructions. Come on…"

   He got the same routine all over again. I lowered the music, pulled out the wet bandannas, and gave him a little lecture at every break. Then went back to giving it to him good.

   "There's no need for this one!"

   "This is just a complete lack of respect for me!"

   "Why would you even think I would put up with this, hmm?"

   "This is me not putting up with it!"

   "We learning something? We understanding each other? I don't think we are yet!"

   "Sit still! You know what that gets you!"

   "Shut it! You want more? I'll give you more!"

   "I'll give you something to move around for!"

   Then the now obligatory epic finish. Ritual.

   I stood him up and had already tossed the wet bandannas on the night stand. I pointed at the floor with the paddle I had just used on him thoroughly. I used my mean mommy voice. It was difficult for him to get down with his hands cuffed behind his back and his ankles still cuffed. He wiggled down and got into groveling position as best he could.

   "Beg…"

   "I'm not feeling it. You don't sound like you mean it."

   "You call that begging?"

   I got him up and repeated some more of the epic finish, then we went back to trying it again.

   "I said beg. Like you mean it."

   He went back over again, for not having thanked me for correcting him. Then, we tried again. This time, I got properly thanked the right way, and we went back to begging.

   "You're trying to be forgiven!"

   "Let mommy help you with that…"

   I reached behind me, onto the dresser top. Because we were alone, I could have my things out and handy. I grabbed my coiled up bullwhip. I ran the coils over him, and listened to the begging get better.

   "That's better. That's lots better… keep going."

   "Oh yeah. Begging is getting better."

   "Shush now. Mommy is going to have some fun with you…"

   I tied a piece of rope onto the thick metal ring on his collar, and began.

   "Walk. Come on… walk."

   I walked him around the bedroom. I made him sit up, beg, roll over, and do all the humiliating things associated with that. In short order, I had a well behaved little slut. I walked him, once he started performing well, out the bedroom door and downstairs. I walked him all around, and made him do what he was told, he listened perfectly. I walked him back upstairs, on his hands and knees, and played fetch with him.

   "Good boy. Fetch…"

   He fetched me my socks I took out of my sock drawer, and brought them to me with his mouth.

   "Now. That's a good boy…"

   I led him by his leash, back downstairs, to the kitchen.

   "Sit! Stay! Now, that's a good little slut."

   I sat at the table, and asked if he wanted a treat. I microwaved a little bag of pizza rolls. I sat at the table, and put a plate on the floor. I put a few down for him, and watched him eat without his hands.

   "Good boy…"

   I put some more down on his plate, and had fun picking them up with my toes, and putting them in his mouth that way.

   "Now, you're a good little slut."

   I walked him all around downstairs, and back upstairs, and ended up at the foot of the bed. We played fetch for a while. When I was satisfied I had him listening, I told him it was time for bed.

   "Now. You listened to mommy, you get to make up. Beg…"

   I had fun listening to him beg, and I ran the coiled up bullwhip over him to get more.

   "All right. You want to make up? You want to kiss and make up? Get up here…"

   I finally accepted his apology, and kissed and made up.

   "You can get your ass beat, or mommy can play with you and have fun. Which one do you like more, little slut. You want a sore ass, or you want fun. Its all your choice. If you'd rather have fun, like we just had? That's what mommy does with a slut that's being good. You wanna go over mommy's knee? We can do that, too. Your choice. Listen to mommy, and we can have fun. You need corrected? You need punished? We can do that too. You choose."

   "Now… if you choose to be good? You come up here and get hugs and kisses. Tell mommy how good you're gonna be…"

   He came up onto the bed and laid down with me. Slowly, with trepidation. I shushed him and gathered him in my arms, and slung my leg over him.

   "Shh. Are you going to be mommy's good boy?"

   He shook his head yes. Nervous though.

   "Are you going to listen to mommy?"

   He would. Glancing up at me warily.

   "Shh. All you have to do, is promise mommy you're going to be a good boy. And mean it. If you break the rules, if you don't do what's expected of you? Bad things happen. You go over mommy's knee. Mommy's belt comes off. You get the paddle…"

   I felt him wince at the mention of the paddle, and going over my knee. I was getting somewhere I wanted to be. I was right there.

   "You haven't made up with mommy yet. Promise me, that you'll start being good. Promise me, you'll listen. Good things will start happening, instead of bad things. You want good things, right?"

   I felt his head scrape against my bosom.

   "All right. Just promise me. Let me hear you ask. And just mean it."

   He sniffled, and he promised he'd try to be good. He was finally gun shy.

   "Ask mommy. To give you another chance, to prove you'll be a good little boy now. Ask me, and just mean it. Then we'll start over again. You want mommy to play nice with you? Or you want bad things to keep happening. Ask me nice. Go on… do it."

   He whispered it into my neck, all ashamed and embarrassed. Its what I was waiting for. He begged me to be good, he wanted good things to happen.

   "It doesn't happen overnight. But, if you want to start over again, we can try. Naughty little boy wants to start over again?"

   He did, and I got little sobs into my neck. Clinging to me. I was waiting on this, and I seized on it.

   "Shh. Let's try it. Let's see. You get down at the foot of the bed, and you kneel down, like a good little boy."

   He cowered at the foot of the bed. I sat there, looking down.

   "Kisses. Beg mommy to start over. I'm warning you, if you don't mean it? You'll pay with the skin off your ass, slut. Beg, and don't do it if you don't mean it. Beg…"

   I listened to a lot of begging and pleading, amid a lot of groveling. After a time, I told him to shush, and be quiet.

   "All right. Mommy's going to play with you some. Come here…"

   I used the rope leash, and I led him around the room. I talked sweet and nice, and I made him do everything. Sit up, beg, roll over, the works.

   "Now. Is that so bad? You submit to mommy, you get it good. Let's take the little slut for a nice walk…"

   I walked him back downstairs, and all over. I had him doing everything I said, and he was more enthusiastic. I sat down on the couch, and had him at my feet.

   "Now. Is this better? Or do you want to keep testing me. Seeing what that gets you. You tell me now."

   He gushed, groveling.

   "You need to listen to me. You need to do what you're told. Its all up to you. You do what's expected of you. You listen. You do your chores like you mean it. Then we can have fun. But… if you make me? You know what happens. Do you really mean it? You wanna start over?"

   He gushed on my feet he did.

   "All right. We'll try. Get up on your knees…"

   I held his face in my neck while he sobbed quietly. Begging to be good, to start over.

   "Shh. Go back down."

   I waited, then told him to "stay". I walked into the kitchen, and shook up a bowl with a locking lid, of instant pudding. It takes a minute at best. I brought it in, and sat back down. I had an empty bowl with me.

   "Now. Do you wanna be nice? Do you want nice things to happen instead of getting a sore ass?"

   He did.

   "Then sit up. Beg. Show me you want nice things to happen. Beg like a good little slut. Beg!"

   "All right. You want some… mommy will share…"

   I spooned out half for myself onto my bowl. I put his, the original bowl, down for him.

   "You promise you'll be a good boy from now on?"

   He did.

   "Then show me…"

   I dipped my foot into the bowl, and lifted out toes loaded with instant pudding. I pointed at it, and told him to be a "good boy". He looked up at me, then started licking and eating his pudding off of my toes. When he got close to being done, I scooped more out the same way, and he went at it again. I slowly ate mine, smiling. I licked the spoon in the sexiest manner I could, and kept feeding him his, in the way we started.

   When we got done with his, I held my foot out still.

   "Good little sluts clean it up. Go on. Be my good little boy."

   He cleaned every bit off slowly. I even gently teased him, telling him to do a good job, and not to leave me sticky. He complied.

   "Now. That? Was a good boy. That shows you submit, to your mommy. Now… take these bowls out and rinse them out, and put them in the dishwasher like a good boy. Shoo."

   He did and returned.

   "Lot's better, when you act like a good boy, isn't it? It doesn't have to hurt. Show me what a good boy you can be. Clean me some more. Go on…"

   He obediently did what he was told. Now, we're getting somewhere. I walked him all over, and had him do all kinds of "tricks". I smiled lots, and kissed him, and was all sweet and loving.

   "All right. Time for bed, little boy. Let's go…"

   I walked him on all fours, back to the bedroom.

   I took his rope leash off, and told him to get on the bed. I stood beside the bed, my hand on my hips.

   "Now. You've had it both ways. You've had your ass beat, and tested me. For being a bad boy. You just had a taste of what its like, to be a good boy. Have fun with mommy. Pick one."

   He wanted to be a good boy.

   "Hmm. We'll see. Now. Its bedtime. If you wanna be allowed to sleep with mommy, and snuggle under the covers, all warm and snuggled? That's fine. You're not permitted to initiate sex. Only mommy does that. Now… let's see if you can start to be a good boy now…"

   We kissed and "made up" for a while, before falling asleep. Before asleep happened, I was laying up against him. By definition, he was up against me. Warm skin on warm skin. My arms were around him, my leg slung over his. Tight, close, intimate.

   "Little boy."

   "Yes, mommy."

   "Its not about magic words. Do you like sleeping up against mommy?"

   I could hear it in his voice.

   "Yes, very much."

   "I believe you. It can be like this every night. But are you ready to hear me speak?"

   "Yes…"

   "All right. I had to make you submit to me, by fucking you silly. I had to beat your ass tonight, for you to see the difference. Its on you. You need to submit to me. Or we're going to keep going through what we went through tonight. No more games. Will you surrender yourself to me. Completely."

   I could hear it in his voice, the nervousness.

   "I will."

   "All right. We'll start over again. Mommy loves you, but you need to try. Promise mommy you'll try."

   "I promise…"

   "Shh. Its all right. Isn't this better?"

   "Yes…"

   "Okay. Go to sleep now. Shh."

   In the morning, I woke him up. Early. After he had his morning pee, I checked with him watching.

   "Good boy. Now go down to the kitchen. Mommy will be down shortly."

   When I joined him in the kitchen, he was quiet.

   "Good morning, slut."

   He was quiet responding.

   "Good morning, mommy."

   "Its early. I want breakfast. I expect you to see to it. Are we clear?"

   "Tell me what you want."

   "I want two things."

   "Name it…"

   "Eggs. Over easy. Bacon and sausage. Home fries."

   "And…?"

   "Kneel. Now."

   He groveled.

   "Don't forget last night. Now make my breakfast."

   When he was done, he put my plate in front of me, then put his own down. He stood there.

   "Sit. Eat."

   He sat down.

   "We had an agreement last night. You? Get a fresh start with mommy. Don't disappoint me. Now eat."

   "Thank you, mommy."

   We started eating.

   "Hmm. There's just one thing. I haven't forgotten, you still need to be taught a lesson. For telling me no. Do you understand?"

   "Yes mommy…"

   "Good. Eat."

   When we were done, I sat and watched him clear the plates, and put them in the dishwasher.

   "I want dressed. Follow me upstairs."

   He dressed me. After he laced my soccer spikes, he kissed my shoes.

   "That's enough. Get dressed."

   He had a few marks visible from the soccer shorts. I had him change into my sweatpants. We stretched out. We ran. We worked out. When we came back in, I was soaked with sweat. So was he. He knelt and unlaced my spikes, after kissing them. When he took my socks off, I had him hand them to me.

   "I'll take those. Continue…."

   The rest of my undressing continued like normal. He ended up at my feet, like he was supposed to.

   "You. Strip."

   When he was groveling again, naked this time, I let him go.

   "Its time you paid for telling me no. Do you understand?"

   He said he did.

   "Kneel up here."

   I shoved my dirty socks in his mouth, and crammed them in. I tied a bandanna around tight, and knotted it.

   "You knew not to tell me no. You did it anyways. You knew this was coming."

   I handcuffed his wrists with the regular handcuffs in front of him. His ankles as well.

   "Now bend over…"

   I tied the short chain on his handcuffs, to the short chain on his ankle handcuffs. Tight.

   "I'm going to fuck the ever loving shit out of you…"

   I put my own toy on, lubed it up myself, then stood behind him. I put my belt around his waist a little higher up than a belt goes, a hair loose but fastened otherwise normally. Using it as a handhold, I touched my jelly rubber weapon to his little rabbit hole. I heard his positively pitiful squeals and whines before I did a thing.

   "You thought last time was bad? Wait till you feel this, slut. You'll never tell me no again…"

   I grabbed him by that belt, and lined up touching him. I shoved, and entered him fully. All the way, all at once. I heard him scream in his dirty socks gag. He twitched around, and I held him securely. He wasn't going anywhere, helpless as he was. My entry was nothing short of brutal. I bottomed out, and rolled my hips around, laughing to make fun of his screams and crying. He exploded with tears and screaming and crying, and I rolled my hips around something fierce. I immediately took hold of his belt handle, and took fast, full and complete strokes. All the way out, all the way in. Banging him instantly. I held him securely, and fucked the ever loving shit out of him just as I had promised.

   With his handcuff chain tied to his ankle cuffs chain, he was completely at my mercy, and I took full advantage. I dribbled his marked up ass cheeks off of my hips like a slutty little basketball. I laughed, and told him to scream louder, that I couldn't hear him.

   "We're not done, slut. You want something to scream and cry for? You want something to pull away for? Here it is…"

   I banged his poor little rabbit hole for all I was worth. We had run a good ways, then worked out for a couple hours total. My socks were soaked with sweat. He could taste them, I was sure. Tied into his mouth, had to be a complete humiliation. Matched only by the brutal anal rape I was perpetrating on his poor little behind right now. It wasn't sex, it was punishment. He knew it. I was covered in sweat, head to toe from my morning workout. I couldn't have possibly drilled his ass harder or deeper or faster. This had to be the ultimate ass-fuck, ever. The entry slam, and the immediate banging had to register as epic. The extra loud screaming and raining tears told me the punishment fuck was getting through. Loud and clear.

   I didn't watch a clock, although I knew when I shoved the dirty workout socks in. I had no idea how long I hate-fucked his helpless asshole, but it was definitely a while. When I took a break, I walloped his completely helpless ass with the wooden paddle. I made fun of him, then raped him some more. I took turns, banging him, paddling him, back and forth. If his tears threatened to slow, I ramp-ed the torture up. If his screams showed any sign of abating, I increased the volume of my abuse.

   Over the next 90 minutes, he paid dearly for having told me the word no during punishment. Mommy? Will not be told no. When I was satisfied, I yanked him off his feet by the belt handle high on his waist. I tugged him like a helpless hogtied calf over to the bed. His hand's handcuffs tied to his ankle's handcuffs, he was in no position to argue. I laughed as I tugged him over where I wanted him easily. I took a third pair of short chain handcuffs, and double cuffed them to the bed frame leg. I tied the short chain double cuffed to the bed leg, to the chains already tied together. His wrists and ankles were together, rooted to the foot of the bed.

   He wasn't going anywhere. I laid face down on the bed, looking down at him affixed helpless like he was.

   "Hi, slut. Remember telling mommy no? You're paying for it now. Don't ever do it again."

   I smiled down on him for a while, then spit on him a couple times.

   "Telling mommy no? Shows a lack of respect. If you don't show mommy respect, you get none back. In the future? Show mommy the respect you should. It will prevent unfortunate things like this. Oh. we're not done, slut. Not by half."

   I finally untied the gag and pulled my dirty workout socks from his mouth. He barely had time to recover, when I shoved the bar of soap in fully, then tied it in tight with the bandanna. I went back to ogling him essentially hogtied to the foot of the bed, now gag complaining about the bar of soap tied tight into his mouth.

   "Hmm. Little slut? You spent at least an hour and a half, with mommy's filthy socks in your mouth. That means… three… whole… hours… enjoying that bar of soap. And mommy? Is going to lay here, and watch. The whole three hours. I'm actually curious, how loud you scream. I hope you don't disappoint me. Oh, do not… ever… tell me no, or shake your head no, at me again."

   I made fun of his plight or taunted him, every so often. Looking down off the edge of the bed. Always smiling.

   "Wow. You look like you're having a really bad time down there. That? Must suck."

   "Don't ever tell me no again? This won't happen. Its that simple."

   "I was? Going to whip the skin off your ass for telling me no. I went with this instead."

   "You better get that look off your face. Right fucking now, slut. You think you can't be whipped right now? Think again."

   "What? We're starting over, right? Problem is… this happened before that. Fucking deal with it."

   "Older people. That told me stories, about the switch the bad kids got? Told me about the soap in the mouth punishment. I heard it was really bad. Looks to me? Like they were right."

   "Ooh. Already screaming, huh? You got so much longer to go. Better save that screaming, slut."

   "Are you ever going to tell me no again? Better think twice, mister."

   "How's your ass feel? I fucked you pretty hard."

   "You're lucky I'm not fucking your ass again, right now."

   "Ha! Look at you crying… ooh yeah, scream, little boy. Scream louder! Its just making it worse…"

   "Hey! Only another whole hour to go. Thought you might like to know that…"

   "I'm bored, watching you suffer like this. Scream louder, so its more fun for me…"

   "Louder!"

   "Fucking slut. Don't ever, tell me no."

   "Aw. Poor little slut. Getting what he has coming to him."

   "Ha! Choke on it! Fucking slut…"

   I dropped my hands down the last half hour or so, and my hands took turns tickling one helpless foot or the other. The last fifteen minutes were basically five minutes at a time, of non stop tickling both at once. The new explosion of high pitched screaming, crying and tears? Was as always, epic. Soap suds, like lathering up in the shower, rolled out from the corners of his gagged mouth. It had been going on for a long time, but this made it worse. Much worse.

   "Time's up."

   I supported my chin on my hands, smiling down.

   "I'm waiting. Because I can do whatever I want."

   He had no choice but to remain there, hands and ankles cruelly shackled and tied together, roped and chained to the bed leg. The total picture of a completely helpless slut being punished.

   "I think we understand each other now. Don't we…"

   "Just one more thing. Don't ever forget this, slut. If you tell me no again? I might decide to put those dirty workout socks in down in our sub basement. I'll fuck your dirty little ass just like I did here? But I'll do it for four straight hours, the only breaks I take will be to paddle your naked little ass as hard as I can, then go right back to it. Four… straight… hours. Then? I'll leave you just like you are here, to the pole in the basement. I'll turn the light off, lock the door, and come up to bed. You can suffer like you just did now, for eight whole hours. Soap suds coming out your nose. On the cold basement floor, in the dark, all alone. Probably longer, who knows. I'll be down eventually to let you go. That's what can happen, if you ever tell me no again. So don't do it."

   I tickled both feet mercilessly for a couple minutes straight, watching the soap suds stream out of his nose.

   "I think we understand each other now."

   I unlocked his tight cuffed hands and wrists. His pulling and struggling had made neat double lines in places on his wrists and ankles. He leaned his head over, so I could reach down and untie the bandanna.

   "Spit it out, slut."

   I held my palm out, for him to spit the soap out. It was no longer a bar anymore. It had gone wet and soft and taken on the shape of his mouth, much like an orthodontist's retainer, but made out of soap.

   I scooted around, and put my feet down on the towel at the foot of the bed, where I was undressed normally after working out. He crawled over, grabbed my ankles and buried his face all over my feet, all little kisses and licks. Afraid of not thanking me enough, with the proper respect I had taught him.

   "All right. That's enough for now. We can finish this later, little boy. Now. Would you like mommy to make you feel a little better?"

   He did.

   I helped him up, shushing. I helped him into the bathroom and had him rinse out his mouth with warm water. Swish it around and spit in the sink. Until all the little chunks of soap cemented between his teeth came out.

   "Don't swallow, it'll make it worse. Gargle. Spit."

   "All right. Mommy's going to take care of you now. Come on…"

   I gingerly led him down to the kitchen, and took out a strange little teapot. He watched with interest while I made tea with the regular teapot, then added water until the temperature was comfortably hot. I had him bend his head over the sink, and filled up the strange teapot with the really warm, strange tea.

   "All right. You have soap all through your nose. This will clean it out. Its an herbal rosewater tea, made strong. It will take the taste and smell out. The soap will burn and sting for a second, then it will feel good. Mommy promises. You have to trust your mommy. And, if you never had a Nelly pot before? This is going to feel weird. Keep your mouth open, let it run out."

   I gently grabbed his head to hold it, and put the arm of the strange teapot to his nose and got a gentle seal. I tilted, and the warm, strong herbal tea slogged through his nose and sinuses, and dropped into his throat and ran out his mouth.

   "Gargle. Swish. Now spit…"

   I did both sides of his nose. Tender and loving. Again and again. When we were done, I had him stay over the sink.

   "Better?"

   "Thank you, mommy."

   "Hmm. I'm going to make the tea for us to drink. You'll feel better after you drink it. It'll make the taste in your throat go away. The rosewater coats and soothes. Tastes and smells better, and replaces it with something good."

   I made us both a big mug of tea, and told him no milk or sugar, it would work better. He gargled and swished and spit his first little mouthful, then took a few small drinks. Relief finally spread over his face.

   "Come on, little boy."

   I led him by the hand gently into the living room, and we sat on the couch.

   "Let's talk, little boy. You can drop the mommy. Do you feel better now?"

   "Yes. Thank you."

   I put my arm around his shoulder warmly.

   "All right. Its all over now. Drink your tea. Helps, doesn't it."

   "Yes, how did you know."

   "Hmm. Grandma, when I was little. Like all grandmas, they tell little kids stories. About the old days. I heard all about how little kids that were swearing, or telling adults no? Got the soap, to clean their dirty little mouth out. Teach them a lesson. She said it was very effective, the longer you did it."

   He was quiet now. Still embarrassed from being punished.

   "Did it work? Think you'll be telling me no anymore? Hmm?"

   "N---"

   "Hmm. Its all right. When no is the good answer? You're allowed. So, will you ever tell me no again? Or do you get the soap for 8 hours next time."

   "No…"

   He had that puckering, quavering quality to his no. From the mere mention of 8 hours, after having experienced 3.

   "We'll see. Grandma told me about cleaning a little kid out with the Nelly pot, to get rid of the soap up the nose. When you're done with a long one. The rosewater tea. Aren't you glad I knew that? Hmm?"

   "Yes. Thank you very much."

   "You're welcome. As a toddler, when I was too young to help out on the busy time on the farm when a little kid would just get in the way, you stay with grandma. I was young, and heard all about the old punishments. Soap in a dirty little mouth, for one."

   "I can guess the others."

   "Normal toddler tales. The switch. The belt. The paddle. The whip down the barn, if you were really bad. There were others. I'm going to try them all out."

   "Like what?"

   "Hmm. Kneeling on corn, off the top of my head. I always wondered about that one. None of the other mommies ever mentioned it. I'm going to be first to try it, I think."

   He didn't say anything. He knew I'd try anything I wanted.

   "So. Remember last night? Mommy played fetch with you, took you for a walk. Gave you a treat. That was fun, right?"

   "Yes."

   "Much better than crying your eyes out, over my knee, I bet."

   "Yes."

   "When you're a good little slut, good things happen. When you're a bad little slut? Then bad things happen. You can make good things happen, or you can make bad things happen. I can play with you, or I can punish you. Its all up to you. That no punishment? That was hanging over your head, I wanted to get it out of the way. Now? If you start being good. And I mean really good. There will only be one thing left hanging over your head, until we're done."

   "What's that."

   "Hmm. You forget. You were jealous of the curious young cowboys that came up to mommy. You were all jealous, that mommy let them taste her special bullwhip through their jeans. So? I told you. Mommy doesn't want her personal slut to feel jealous, that anyone got anything he didn't. So… when you're finally a good little slut, for long enough you don't have a little boo boo butt? I'm going to give you a nice taste of what hard lashes feel like, through jeans."

   I kissed his neck, and bit it softly. Cooing in his hear now.

   "Oh yeah. Mommy said it, so now mommy has to do it. You were jealous, mommy gave out hard licks, huh? It was to keep them away, because mommy didn't want to play with them. But you, got all jealous. So? You're going to get a nice, big taste of mommy's special helper. You were jealous? Mommy's going to have to teach you a lesson about being jealous. When you go down there, knowing what you're going to get? You're going to be nervous, and scared. I'm going to order you over that big table, like a big hay bale pile. You're going to be tied and cuffed down, just like on the kitchen table that night. Helpless. Gagged tight, and blindfolded. Legs spread wide."

   "I'm not going to do it, not right away. I'm going to practice for a while. Ripping cans apart near you. Cracking around you. You're not going to know when its coming, and its going to make you even more scared. I'm gonna take my time, and really enjoy it. Then, when I'm ready? The very first lick, is going to rip your jeans pocket right off your ass. You? Are definitely going to scream. Then? The next one is going to rip the other jeans pocket off your other ass cheek. No more double layer to protect you, from mommy's bullwhip. You'll scream more. Then? You'll know what's coming. More."

   "With no more pockets to protect you? Its going to get even worse. Lots worse. You only get light ones, to protect you from getting the skin ripped open, little boy. Mommy takes it easy on you. But not this time. You're gonna find out that with jeans on, mommy gets to give the lash to you as hard as she can. I know it's embarrassing to get the whip naked, like you got it before. But mommy has to take it easy on you. Now with jeans on? As hard as I can."

   "I don't know how many its gonna take, to get the jeans ripped. But that's how many you're gonna get. Then? It'll all be over. But when I let you go? You're going to be a hot mess. You? Are going to beg me, like you've never begged me before, not to get it again. Then I bet the next time I take it out, and threaten you with it? I bet I get my tears I want. Begging me not to. Because you know how bad it can be."

   "Then? The little boy won't be jealous, not any more. Now. When I get our own townhouse for mommy and her personal trained slut to live alone? Mommy's going to break that basement in, and break you in, and I'm going to do it right. Same deal, same desk. All the sub basements, the fraidy holes, have the same desks in them. I'm going to do it the same way, all over again. Then? I'm going to keep you there, while I change you into a new pair of jeans, and then your legs are getting tied right back down, and I'm going to whip them off you, too. Then? You're going to beg me, to be good and listen to me in my own townhouse. Then we'll see how good you are for me there, alone with your mommy. I'm going to play with you, all the time. Fuck you any way I want, day or night. And you're going to do it, because you know what can happen."

   "And if mommy ever gets a farmhouse? You better pray I don't get a big enough basement, or a barn with some privacy, or enough woods I can have a shed to take you to. Because if I do? The first night we're moved in, same deal. I'm going to whip three pairs of jeans off of your quivering little ass, so you know mommy really means business. You'll listen even better, I'm just sure of it. You're never going to get away from me, ever. You belong to me. I own you. You? Are my personal property, and I'm going to do anything I want with my dirt bike, and ride it anytime I damn well feel like it. As hard or as soft as I want."

   "Now. Go get us some more tea, dear. Shoo."

   "Here honey."

   "Hmm. Aren't you just mommy's little helper now."

   "You're getting way too good at those naughty stories, you know that."

   "I guess I am. You like them, I can tell."

   I flicked his interest meter, smiling.

   "I guess its too obvious."

   "You know something. Tell me one naughty bedtime story, that hasn't come true."

   He was fidgety and nervous. It wasn't just the vicious fuck I had given him earlier, either. Although, that was playing its part helping it happen. He was nervous just thinking about what I had told him in the story, then making him realize all the stories came true, sooner or later.

   "The jealous jeans one, I know about. Are you really going to…"

   "What? Break in our own townhouse fraidy hole when we move in? Pffft. You can count on that one. We're going to be moving in on a summer break. To get set up. Its always like that. All summer break. Alone. No room mates to worry about. No schedule, so it'll be fine for you to sleep face down for a week if that's how long it takes. Too perfect, to pass up. You know something? This started out because you asked for it. You wanted it. I knew I'd enjoy it, but… I didn't realize how much. You have a very sick and twisted mommy now. I hope you like it, there's no going back now."

   "Sub basement. Cute pun."

   "Hmm. I caught that before, and forgot to mention it. Submissive basement. Yeah. There's another one too, you know."

   "What."

   "The locals call the shelters, fraidy holes. Very appropriate pun there, little boy afraid to get severe punishment, down in the fraidy hole."

   "We might never have a fraidy hole of our own. We're going to get spoiled living in these townhouses, until we get our doctorates."

   "Hmm. Other people put big decks on, or other stuff. We'll just be the couple that gets a good cement shelter one day when we can afford it. We'll both be doctors. I'm sure between both of us, if we think we'll have more fun in a big cement box, than in some stupid in the ground swimming pool? It'll happen."

   "If that's what you want."

   I smiled.

   "You wanted it first. Now, I want it too. I'm going to make you want it more. Because that's what you wanted. You wanted love to hurt. So? I'm going to make it hurt more."

   "Hmm. Thank you for some… normal time."

   "We can't live in a fantasy world all day, every day of our lives. The girls will come back, when they're done whoring around and having fun. We'll have plenty of normal time then. So, a taste test is fine."

   "What now."

   "Now? Mommy's little helper, gets us the last of the tea. Milk and sugar for me. You can have some now, if the bad taste is gone. And when you get back? We'll see about you being forgiven. You haven't been forgiven yet, for telling me no. So when you get back, put your mommy back on, little boy. Or else. Now shoo."

   He brought my tea back, just how I asked for it. I've shown him before how I take it, so he knows. I saw he had milk in his, if not sugar. So I know the soap taste is gone. Grandma is gone now, but, thank you. Wherever you are. And god I hope you don't see me doing this, because I shudder to think of what would go through your mind, seeing how sick and twisted I turned out. But thanks, you helped. Stories and remedies.

   "Your tea…"

   "Yes, mommy?"

   "Get finished. And don't expect me to wait all day. And when you're done…"

   I pointed at the carpet in front of my feet. He finished up quick, and crawled down. My groveling ritual. Strict mommy sips her tea, made just the way she likes it, and has her patented bored and distracted look. I'm somewhere between mildly bored and mildly amused. He begged for my forgiveness. Little kisses. I sipped my tea as slow as I could manage and still be considered drinking it, drawing it out without making it too obvious. When I was done, I gave him my full attention.

   He finally got forgiven, and warned how bad it would be the next time he said no to me. He promised it wouldn't happen. I reminded him matter of fact what would go on, and for how long it would go on, if it did happen.

   I softened ever so slightly.

   "All right. Do you want to make up with mommy? Come on up here. You better mind your manners, little boy. You're on thin ice."

   I watched him actually nervous to kiss me. He wants some sign, some indication its really all right. He's worried how he does it, once he does. What if he does it too sweet, and I wanted kissed slutty. What if he kisses me slutty, and I just reminded him to mind his manners. He now knows what can happen. I'm more respected than ever before. And respect, is fear by another name. He's afraid of me now. Afraid of the power and the control I have over him. I sometimes wield it terribly and simply flaunt it. Other times like now, I'm much more demure about it. But its there, and we both know it.

   What a rush. I'll never give this up. Ever.

   "You want to make up with mommy, huh? I'll bet you want some way to really impress mommy, with how good you can be. Well? Here's your big chance. Mommy wants it slow again. Nice. Let's see what you've learned, little boy. Show me."

   It was heaven. It took forever. Taking forever to get his tip in, then the slow meandering to get the tiniest strokes going in slow motion. We'd need time lapse photography to prove full strokes went on, when they finally happened. His pull outs, to wait for permission to finish. Then starting all over, again and again. The slower and the longer it takes, the more pleasure I get out of it. Like some magic spell that builds up power, slowly over time, every time you perform the ritual, the rite. Eventually you cash it in for one of those sweet orgasms that only come from the all buildup, all anticipation. The sweet, light kind of climax that isn't earth shattering and bone jarring and gut wrenching, like the rough ones. They're great, but intense and quick. These sweet ones? Take forever, and are lighter and last much longer. It takes forever to have another, each one a little snowflake of pleasure.

   "You're allowed to finish, next time you get all the way in, slut. Don't you dare finish in me, you better pull out and help me get my mouth on it. You lose one drop, you're going down in the basement. Don't fuck it up."

   He got it to me in time. A couple tugs and he's in my mouth. Not long after, he's up here getting some of my sluttiest kissing I have to offer. We're both still covered in dried sweat from working out, then more from his brutal ass rape and punishment hate-fucking and intense beating. Dried again, then this. The third sheen of sweat, the third time is the charm. We're both completely filthy now, three times over. The only thing clean on him is his mouth. Check that, was his mouth. I'm kissing him his mess back slowly, so even his mouth is filthy again. He's not just my personal slut, he's my personal dirty little slut.

   I'm getting thanked now, and licked and kissed all over. I'm three times over filthy, and his tongue either cleans me or makes it worse. We're both covered in dried sweat, new sweat, and saliva and bodily fluids. We're both filthy, disgusting creatures. And we're feeding off of each other's naughty compulsion, and making it worse. This is our pair bonding period of the relationship, the early magical phase. We're binding ourselves to each other physically, emotionally, and chemically. The fact that I bind him and punish and torture and tease him, is just one more irony to it.

   "Come on, little boy. Its early, and we have things to get out of the way…"

   He takes my fingers and I lead him. He already grabbed the dishes. Good, he knows his place now. A slut's place is to please you any way they can, and he's doing it.

   "Take care of the dishes."

   "Good boy. Now. Go get your bucket. I want the kitchen floor cleaned. Mommy's going to watch you do it, so you do a good job. You know what needs done. I want to see you do it, without me saying a word. Make mommy happy with you."

   When he gets back with his bucket, I'm waiting for him. Dangling two long chained cuffs for him to wear for me. Smiling. I'm wearing my handcuff key, one of many that fits all of them. A thin leather cord around my neck, I can just get off but tight enough I won't lose it. If I do, I have many others and more leather cords like this one. I'm going to wear it like a charm. I have my answer ready, when the girls see me wearing it. In the locker room, and in the showers. Ready to tease me for it. What? I've got him locked down. He's mine. This is the key I threw away. What. He ran with military police in the service, you know. Why else do you think he can fight like he does. See my key ring we both have? Military Police. So I can operate my key ring holder so I don't lose my important keys.

   My secret. Our secret. Right out in the open, the best place to hide it.

   "The floor's not even that dirty, but I want it clean enough to eat off of, slut. You know why, too. When we're alone like this? I like seeing you in those cuffs, you know. Just think, when we get our own townhouse? You're going to do the kitchen floor like this all the time for me. And if you think you're not? You know what you'll get. Move it."

   He's done quick. I "inspect" his job, and I can't find any real fault. If I want to have something to "correct" during now nightly correction tickle time? If things keep going like this, I'll have to make something up. Nightly correction time. New ritual.

   "Come on, little boy… go put your bucket away. I think under the sink is the best place for it now. Then we're going upstairs."

   I'm like a little girl again. I missed out on pretending I was a grown up, playing dress up and playing house and stuff like that. I played wiffle-ball and tackle football, and worked on the farm and on other farm and farm related side jobs instead of the normal kid jobs like shoveling snow and cutting grass. Well, when I moved snow? Daddy sent me with a real tractor. I'm sure the guys watching a fifteen year old girl drive a tractor to plow the parking lot thought it was a kick to see. I was already tall and filled out a good bit. I came into the coffee shop, stomping snow off my work boots, and wanting coffee, like any other guy in insulated flannels working in the snow. No wonder they all smiled and nodded approvingly. I thought I was just cute. I guess in my own way, I was.

   Cutting grass was the same. A big real tractor, with a brush hog or a belly mower. One for rough cut, one for finish mow. Changing the PTO over is a bitch, but once you get that down, its just busy work. Probably other than my size, that accounts for my grip. I'd stop at the same coffee shop in the summer, and want iced tea like the other older men that stopped in for that. Bitch about the heat with them then back off to it.

   No playing dress up, no playing house. I realize I'm playing house now. Getting my boyfriend ready to live in my own townhouse in two more years. He knows its "my" kitchen what he sees downstairs, and what my room is like. He knows I don't approve at all of the disaster bedrooms the lazy whores keep or don't keep, depending on how you look at it. The living room? Christ. When I finally saw his groundhog hole he lived in? He's on my team. Military guy. Couple green mail bags, a footlocker. A cot, some military style blankets from the Army Navy store. A mess kit from the same place. Couple boxes of books, a folding camp chair and the footlocker is his desk and coffee table and foot stool.

   The dirt was compacted evenly, and you could see the cement block in the corner he tamped it with, to get a hard, even "floor" of hard clay. The little trough of hard clay he ran the trickle of ground water away harmlessly with. The "shower" had a trough to run the water away to meet the aforementioned trough. As neat and orderly and spartan as you could ever hope for a dirt hovel to be.

   I'm reliving my girlhood again. I'm playing house when the girls are away and loving it. I'm issuing my future pretend husband chores for his honey do list. I'll pretend even more when we get our own townhouse. I'll train him thoroughly for the time when we have our own house. Then the naughty compulsion strikes without warning. He'll get savagely bull-whipped in the basement, to train him "right". Christ, this is me now. I know I will.

   "All right. The toy? Needs washed. I didn't have time to clean your dirty little slut's bum out first. Bathroom sink. Foam the sink and rinse and wipe it when you're done. Check the toilet, make sure its clean. And for god's sake, make sure the lid's down. You live with four girls now. Show some respect. You see mommy's dirty workout clothes laying around, you know they go in the washer until you run the night's load after our night time shower and bath. And from now on? You know I better not see my dirty clothes laying around waiting for me to tell you. Couple minutes. Shoo."

   I sound like my grammy. She used to issue polite orders, then say "shoo". I'd say we were done in minutes flat, but there's no we. It's him. He's done in minutes, and standing here in front of me. Naked. Waiting for what I want now. I feel my tingle. I can order him to do just about anything, and he'll comply. I'm drunk with power. Absolute power, the worst kind. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

   The naughty compulsion strikes again, never with any warning to brace yourself. Do it, it whispers. The handcuffs are still tied together. Put the belt on his waist again, you know you loved the fuck handle. Do it. Handcuffs and ankle cuffs tied together again. Shove those filthy workout socks in his mouth one more time, grab that fuck handle on your again helpless but willing fuck toy, and go to town. Again. Brutal entry again, and fuck his dirty little ass like you mean it. Again. He'll take it, he always does. Get off on his screaming and bawling again. Make it your morning after workout, workout. Make it your morning ritual. Make his ass, your morning ritual brutal ass-fuck.

   "All right, honey. Shower time. Show mommy how good you can do it. We're going out for a little bit. Something different. Mommy is filthy."

   Mommy is filthy, all right. You have no clue. There's no if, its when. I'm going to end up repeating this morning's brutal ass rape again. I don't know when, but it will happen.

   "No bath, honey! Just the shower! We'll get the hot soak tonight, I promise!"

   I walk in the shower, and the pampering and fawning begins the minute I strut in. I'm so lucky, so pampered, so spoiled now. How can I ever find another guy that would even think of learning to do this for me, and not think I was the biggest spoiled cunt in the world. I just… walk in, everything's ready and waiting for me to arrive. Water's the perfect start temperature, just hot enough you can barely stand it. He adjusts it up inch by inch, to keep it as hot as we can stand it, the way we both like. The entire time. Until it's on the teetering edge of too hot, but just a hair under.

   I just lift my feet when I have to, he attends to everything. I love when he runs his hands over me, moving the soap around. Naughty compulsion strikes with never a warning. I can get a huge washcloth, and gag him with it flapping out his mouth, above and below like the sponge on the floor that day. I can use his face for a human washrag. Clean my feet, my twat, my underarms and even my ass with his washcloth face. He'll love it, he looks forward to any humiliation now I repeat on him. Ritual humiliation. That's love now, too. In fact, if I suddenly quit with our fun little humiliations, he'll ask what's wrong, why am I falling out of love with him so soon.

   I love leaning my hands against the wall, and the soaping up. I love the little grit in the exfoliating body scrub. The naughty little scratching all over his hands give me doing it. Feeling it on my legs, my back, my bum. My sensitive little nipples getting the tiny ground pumice scratching. And the moisturizing, oh god. I'm baby oiled up with the water on hold, and I mean head to fucking toe. My hair brushed back lovingly with creamy moisturizer.

   When his training is over and I start doing it all back to him again in here once again, I'm itching for that as well. Here comes the warm baby oil. Oh god. All over. I love feeling his hands run it even up my clean ass crack. He doesn't dare touch my hole back there, on my orders now. But when training is over, and we go back to a "normal" couple again? Oh yeah. I can't wait to get baby oiled up like this, then… uh huh. Taken by force from behind the one day I'm in the mood that week. Hard, from behind. Beyond rough. Raped in my ass. Maybe no entry games, like a thief breaking into my asshole. Hard entry, like SWAT taking my ass. Brutal entry technique. Hell, I just taught him that this morning. You don't always need to make love to an ass, you can blow the back door off its hinges and go in like the bells of St. Mary's.

   Like I'm training him to be my personal dirty little groupie slut. Pffft. I'm giving him ideas for after his training ends. I'm going to be a complete whore now for him, too. Once a week, I demand it rough. Sticking my ass up in the air, asking for it. I might be dominant six days a week under normal circumstances, but once a week on average? Use me for a fuck hole. Every 28 days? Rape my tight asshole. I told myself I was just seeing what anal was like, so I knew what I'd be doing to him soon, but who was I kidding. I liked it. That final rough time? Yeah. It could easily end up both my holes with my ass in the air, on my once a week nod to acknowledging my femininity, and enjoying having it reaffirmed. Part of being dominant in bed is demanding what you want, knowing you're going to confidently receive it. I'll confidently once a week demand brutal SWAT ass entry with baby oil in the shower.

   Christ, it will make sense to get "cleaned out" like I did to him, too. Practical. Real dominant, huh? I wonder how long it will take before I get curious what its like to get handcuffed for rough sex. It will happen eventually. I like having my ass smacked hard when I'm taken rough over the hood of the car. How long till I ask for more. Will I ever build up enough urge to begin hinting I want a rougher one over the chair in the basement? I hope not, but… if I like my ass smacked rough when I'm in the mood for hard from behind, that's not far off of that mark once I get to feeling like its the once a week same old same old. My god, we're going to end up the filthiest couple anyone ever heard of, years down the road. We're not exactly puritanical Mormons now.

   Wow. Without the hot soaking bath now, he's giving me my rubdown and body massage in the shower. He's trying to adapt to please me any way he can. My calves, my thighs. My neck, my shoulders. My back, he's doing the rabbit punching up and down the sides of my spine I like so much. The hot water's inched up now to the reddening of my skin I like, and I know I'm getting my back punched to more red marks, bringing up blood into the muscle tissue. He was a fighter, he is a fighter. He trains fighters. He's confident doing it. He's got the rapid fire jack-hammering of my back muscles that feels so divine to a female athlete.

   If I "shared", I could extract any favor or payment I wanted out of a team mate to get this rapture after a practice or a big game. I could pimp his hands out and get cash and prizes for it. But I'm a selfish insufferable cunt, and everyone knows it. I tell myself, that this makes me a good girl. But I know the truth, I'm selfish. I've already started to brag a little. That I get rubdowns on the regular. Lightning confirmed it, one of the girls idly quizzed her if we showered together. I asked Little Lightning what she said to answer. She shrugged, and said yes. Then giggled, and stuck her finger in her mouth, and made the gagging sound.

   We were so in love, it was sickening to be around. It made you want to throw up. Anything one girl gets that's brag-able, doesn't matter what it is. The others didn't know they wanted it, until they heard another gets it. One by one, they would think about it. Body massages, rubdowns. Fuck, we're athletes. It makes perfect sense when you think about it. The professional athletes get it, why not? Their casual fucks were going to get asked for it. Their bad boys weren't going to go for that, way too much like actual warmth and caring. Fuck that shit, babe. Go date some faggot if that's what you want.

   Now the hot water. I love leaning my hands into the wall and my body into the hot water, now as hot as I can stand it. Eyes closed with all but carnal lust for this pampering. He's sitting in front of me, where he started putting himself at the end. His hands are running over me, the oil beading water now, moisturizer locked into my exfoliated skin. He's feeling my feet, my ankles. My calves, my thighs. I open my eyes to half slits of pleasure and gaze down at him. I smile, I give him what he wants when he looks up at me like this. I go up on my tiptoes. Making my big calf muscles stand up, and go split. My thighs flex, the muscles peek out. My hamstrings get surprisingly hard for a girl. Tan muscle.

   My handcuff key is now around my neck, the leather cord hanging my love charm for him to see. I can see him stare at it. I smile and all but blush. Its the key to his pain and his pleasure, hanging around my neck handy for anytime I need to lock him up for a quick, brutal fuck. Hell, key to my pleasure now as well.

   He traces with his fingers where they like to go. I feel the finger touch one calf then the other. Feel the cup and the split up the middle that fascinates him so much. Then tracing the muscles on my thighs. He loves that little one at the top middle that "peeks" out, particularly when I flex up for him like now. I cock my head with my smirk. The slightly questioning look, that only lovers can discern what it asks without words intuitively. He nods once, and blushes.

   "Slut…"

   I take his head, and hold it to pee on him. Just a harmless little squirt. We are in the shower, after all. He soaps up and rinses off quick, then comes back. Eyes on me, while I'm finishing my hot soak. Asks politely if he's allowed to touch me.

   "Sure. You've been good. No touching my twat or my ass. Anything else? I allow."

   He's… wanting hugged and kissed. That's fine. I turn him around and grab his wrists forcefully and put them against the wall.

   "Keep them there, slut."

   He thanks me, and I bite his neck and hug him rough from behind. He melts into me, he loves it. It makes me feel powerful. He started and stopped, asking me something. A couple times. He's embarrassed, or he's afraid of offending me. Maybe both, this could be good.

   I grab him rough and bite his neck, he squirms and melts back into me. I grab his hip with my free hand and make pushing, shoving motions into him from behind. He loves it. Shower rape jokes. Only we could make this a private joke. Any other couple, it would be the other way around.

   "What are you trying to get the courage up to ask me, slut. Spit it out. I'm in a good mood. Mommy loves her shower time, you know that. You, are even temporarily in mommy's good graces for once. Speak."

   He's hinting around, too embarrassed to ask to be used in the shower.

   "Oh. You want me to fuck you in here, huh? Making you fuck yourself in the tub got your little slut motor running, huh?"

   He sheepishly admits it did. His face is beet red, and its not just hot water doing it. He's still got vestiges of shame for admitting he likes it. He's losing it slowly, I'm stealing his shame off of him and making him confront what he is and what his body wants now, that he's still embarrassed to ask for. But he's starting to. I'm dominant sexually. I usually have to suggest it. This is a first. His first hinting around at asking to be used.

   "Beg some. We'll see."

   He begs. Its easier for him to ask, through the begging ritual. Whispering the dirty things he lacks the courage to yet admit he might be beginning to crave. Somehow begging is his first outlet he can ask with.

   "You know the rules, slut. You're in training. I can't make love to your tight little ass. It has to be rough, or not at all. You asking me for it rough, in the shower? Aw, are you all turned on and want your strict, dirty mommy to make you? You want the dirty girl to make you do it, so its not your fault?"

   He admits it is. I make him beg for it.

   "All right. Now you've done it. Tonight? I'm going to clean your dirty little slut's ass out. Thoroughly. And then I'll give you what you're begging for right now. You can think about it all day, knowing that tonight? Your big, strong dirty girlfriend… is going to rape you. Rough. In the shower. I'm going to make you put your hands on the wall, and I'm going to take your little rear end and make you sorry you asked for it. Is that what you want? Beg!"

   He begs for it.

   "Tell me how you want it. Tell me exactly what you want. You open your mouth, and you beg me for it. Let me hear you. You can't have it sweet, until you're all trained. You want it how. I've raped and pounded your little ass six different ways from Sunday. You open your slutty little mouth, and you goddamn beg me for one of them. Beg!"

   He's not just blushing now, he's almost in a mild tearing up, he's so embarrassed. He wants it… like this morning. He's ashamed to admit, he liked it.

   "Do you realize what you're asking me for?"

   He does, he repeats it again and again, almost sobbing with shame. He's humiliating himself, to screw up his courage to ask.

   "You got the paddle this morning. You want your ass beat, too?"

   He does.

   Are you just asking for it, because you're trying to please me, being all eager? Or do you really want it."

   He says he does. It sounds genuine. The dark red face, the teary eyes, its too real.

   "Mommy? Will give you what you want tonight. Ask me what my conditions are."

   He begs to know. He'll do anything I want. My lord, the warm, tingling rush. It ain't the hot water. Its like he read my goddamn mind, my naughty impulse. We're on a wavelength. He picked up some dirty vibe my naughty compulsion gave off.

   "Condition one. No gag. Mommy wants to hear you scream, when I go in all at once, just like this morning. We're alone. I'll have the loud music in here."

   "Condition two. I'm not going through all the trouble to clean you out, then open up your little ass in here, and be done. When we're through in here? I'm banging your naughty little ass in the bedroom, just like down in the living room. As long as I feel like hearing you cry."

   "Condition three. You'll prepare. I want the bed, lined with clean bath towels, you can wash them after. Mommy wants you all oiled up, like a willing little slut on the bed."

   "Condition four. You can plan on showing mommy some serious respect when we're done. You know what that means."

   He agrees to all of it. Now there's just the matter of what I can do to him right now. Christ, my naughty compulsion will feed me anything I want now. My eyes find the box of gloves within reach. Fuck it. I order him to keep his hands on the wall. I snap a glove as I get it on. If his hands come off the wall, he gets punished. He promised.

   Baby oil. Glove. Little slut admitting to wanting used. Little rabbit hole right there. All too convenient for a compulsion as naughty as mine, as insidious as mine. I'm sick and twisted now, and getting worse. He gets a finger. Then two. Then three of them, in a sort of cone. Finally three side by side, moved around. Then eventually four in a cone. Then, the ultimate, all four side by side. In different and out. Opened up, used. Then, it flashed in. Do it. You know he'll take it. You know you can do it now.

   I start giggling. Then chuckling. Then laughing. My gloved hand, baby oiled up. I make a cone of my hand. I force it. He squeals, he whines, I shut him up. My hand starts to disappear, and he starts complaining and squealing and whining, and I keep telling him to shut up. I can't quite punch it in, but by cocking it I can sort of get my fist in a good bit of the way. He cries, he sobs, he's humiliated. He gasps in surprise and shock and I imagine some pain, but I get off on it. He's not quite got my fist in his naughty little ass, but damn near.

   I reach around with my free hand. He begs me not to, but I ask him why not. He sobs out that he's ashamed to be made to like it. I laugh in his ear.

   "Its way too late for that, slut. Way too late…"

   He cried with humiliation likely more than actual pain, as I baby oiled up his interest meter showing full interest, naturally. I teased and stopped and started. I made it take forever, to lengthen the humiliation and fun, and in doing so I thus extend his pleasure. Eventually though, I finish him off. I finally move him out of the water, because I told him to tell me when its coming. I carefully catch it all in my hand. I turn him around, so he can watch me smile, and I fill my mouth up with all of it. Then I come in and pin him to the wall with my body, and make him kiss me, and take all of it.

   I take the dirty oiled up glove off with the inside out motion, and make the toss to the garbage can I just have a shot at. Normally its for empty shower product containers, now its to catch used slut love gloves, too. Oh well.

   I pin his wrists up on either side above his head with my firm grip as I press into him, and give him some of my sluttiest kissing possible. Which by this point is quite outrageous, I can't believe this is me now. But it certainly is. There's no more shock to my system about this. I know its me now. I accept it, that I'm simply sick and twisted now, and getting worse. Thank god my naughty compulsion is to be a sadistic fiend in bed with my lover who's willing and eager about it. Thank god its not to kill people at random in dark alleyways.

   Because compulsions when strong enough, can be denied to a point only. You entertain the slightest bit of temptation, to enjoy it just a little? Its the trickle coming out of the dam wall and the waterfall comes eventually and you can't stop it any more. This is when I'd start chopping people up, and thank god that isn't my compulsion. Mine's okay. Mine's fine. I just all but raped my lover with a gloved fist in the shower, and made him take it. Now he's honest to god thanking me for it. Begging me to do what I promised to him tonight, and I know I will and more.

   I will be uniquely qualified to understand rapists, and will be unable to explain how or why. I'll be able to ride that ragged edge and be a state prison psychologist. The one woman able to talk frankly about understanding what they get out of it, and how it makes sense to them it was okay. So they open up to me, so we can begin some semblance of rational therapy to try to get themselves under control as they near parole, if they want to try to live in public again. What other woman will be able to do anything but shut up and make a face when they describe their feelings frankly. I'll shrug, and say… oh, that's fair. I can see that. Now, let's look at it from the other point of view, shall we?

   I'll be uniquely qualified to understand serial killers and all manner of compulsion driven freaks. My open and frank admission that I completely understand that they have the compulsion, and how it drives and tempts them? Will shock them, it will jar them. Now, can we talk about some strategies to try to control it? That's why we're here. I don't judge you having the compulsion; they just exist.

   Some part of me is mildly ashamed of being the bad guy on the soccer field. Not any more, not this upcoming season. No way. I'm helping, no check that… I'm demanding and forcing my lover to get over his self shame and self guilt at admitting he's my little slut and that he likes it. The least I can do, is admit what my job is, and enjoy being able to do it better. I'll check girls harder. When Little Lightning, Little Miss Two Feet is in danger, I'll go on a goddamn seek and destroy mission to get the girl that's trying to cow tail her.

   When we set up a shield to set up a cross pass to feed Right or Lightning to one time on a run and gun. For Light to take one of her jets on, full tilt on a blur, acrobatic one times out of the air for a goal shot? Oh, when the other one comes across to hide me coming and I take her out… running girls over won't be just a phrase anymore. I'm literally going run over girls like a freight train.

   Every once in a blue moon, the coach gives the secret go ahead. There's no other way. Its time. She's hurting too many players. Its strategically worth it. Take her out. Beat her senseless. I'll never admit it ever, I have to scream at you and you know its just a role playing game, because I have to. But you have my permission, you have my instructions. Do it. Give the crowd what it wants. Show them why you're called the Hurricane. They pull hair and scratch. You don't. Grab her by the throat and hit her like a man and don't stop. Start a bench clearing brawl, the papers and the crowd love it.

   There's a social contract. Its supposed to be a limited contact sport, you're supposed to play clean with skill. If they wanna play rough, we play rough too. Its that level of play now. They wanna play dirty? Try to "adjust our roster"? Fuck them, we'll adjust their roster too. You want blood and all out brawling as well? Be careful what you ask for, we'll give it to you. It'll pay off. When we meet you the second time in this regular season, you'll watch your shit. If we meet you in the playoffs? You'll have learned twice already, don't you dare try that last ditch cheap headhunting of our starting front line. You'll pay for it.

   But that's later in this season coming up, that's later in my career after I'm done with my doctorate. I live in the here and now. Right now, I've got my lover pinned up against the shower wall, and I just got done raping him, I just got done feeding him his own mess forcibly and he loved it. I spit in his open mouth, and kiss him even sluttier than already.

   He clings to me when I finally "release" his wrists from the wall, and he's once again allowed to run his hands and his mouth over my body freely. He thanks me, he means it. He kisses my handcuff key charm pendant, and I grin like a madwoman. He knows what it means, I know what it means, we both know what it means. I'm the dominant one, and he's submissive to me. We both love it. He's thanking me for taking charge and owning his body and using it like my own personal fuck toy.

   On the way out of the shower, to get dried off by him obediently… I grab him from behind, and clamp my hand over his mouth and pull him in tight to me. I hiss in his ear.

   "You ass is mine tonight, little boy."

   He nods his head under my tightly clamped hand over his mouth. He knows I mean it both figuratively, and quite literally as well. I'm going to fuck him like a hurricane half the night. He's going to struggle, scream, and cry. Whine, beg, and plead. I'm going to hurt him bad, and he's going to love every minute of it. I feel confident and powerful. Because I am.

   I lean back against the sink, and do what I do now at this juncture. Lift one foot, then the other, while I'm ever so lovingly and softly dried off. With the utmost care and love to do it exactly as I enjoy. I smile down at him, the way a cat must lick its chops at a mouse. Because I'm going to devour him tonight. I know I'm going to use him for my fuck hole, and put him to bed in tears, quivering and shaking.

   "You said we're going somewhere, right? Am I in trouble for asking where?"

   "Mommy, is taking you shopping. I'm going to see if I can find some cheap toys."

   "Hmm. Cheap toys, for your cheap little slut?"

   "Exactly. I can't wait to see you blush, when I show you something. I'll know it. You'll know it. And when we get home again? I'm going to try anything out on you I get."

   "What are you looking for?"

   "I don't know. Mommy will know it when she sees it. If you're mommy's little helper, and actually help give her ideas? I'll use you extra rough tonight, to show you how much mommy appreciates you."

   "Mm."

   "You know what to do to finish up in here. Meet me in the bedroom, to dress me. Do a good job…"

   I sat on the foot of the bed, and awaited my dressing ritual. He knelt down and spread the towel out. I put my feet on it, and he groveled. Kisses and licks. Toe kisses. I told him when enough was enough. He asked respectfully what I wanted to wear. I directed him. What socks to get, and he put them on one at a time. What panties I wanted. Then what jeans and what shirt. All of it was done well enough I had nothing to complain about, I would have to make something up to correct him with. He had obviously given himself over completely now to me. He smiled easier with it. He was proud I was pleased with him. The hard part described on the mommy website was done with, I had him now. My control and power over him had become reality. He was finally admitting he liked it, and the rest would be easier. And much more fun.

   He asked what I wanted him to wear. Fuck it, take this out for a spin. See what I actually had now.

   "Hmm. You'll do anything I want?"

   "Anything."

   I directed him to get a pair of my socks. I don't generally wear that many girly socks. I'm a jeans and T shirts tomboy. I have them, mind you, I just don't wear them all that often. Rare I'm in the mood. I have socks that pass muster for a boy to wear, no doubts about it. But, him knowing he was wearing my clothes, would be a secret humiliation shared between us. He blushed as he put my socks on. He got it. I had him.

   "Now for the big one, slut. You said anything. I'm going to test that and see."

   "Anything…"

   I directed him to get a pair of my panties. He blushed and was about to say something, and stopped. He blushed so bad, but got them. Then he slowly put them on. Stepped into them, and pulled them up slowly.

   "Oh. If you could see your face right now. Don't worry. No one will know. I'll drive extra careful."

   The thought of going to the hospital with a car wreck, and everyone seeing him in his girlfriend's panties, obviously embarrassed him to no end. The blush deepened, and I reminded him how cute he was when he did it for me to see. It got worse.

   He had marks that were hard to cover with my soccer practice shorts, so the practice sweatpants again, a clean pair. Then naturally, another of my practice T shirts with my number on them. Why stop now, at this stage of the game. I had him lace me up in a pair of my hikers, and he kissed them. This left him able to wear my jogging shoes. We wear the same size, men's 12. Its not like I get the pink jogging tenners, trust me.

   "There you go, slut. You're completely decked out in mommy's clothes. You're a complete little groupie now. How do you feel."

   "Hmm. Like you really own me, I guess."

   "Great. Hand me my phone and my key chain…"

   He blushed again, when he realized my key chain was the thumb cuffs, separating my car and townhouse keys, from keys for stuff sports related. I kissed him some before getting up to go, and he kissed my handcuff key charm somewhat reverently, I thought. Good omen for training getting somewhere good.

   I led him by the hand downstairs and we went and I drove him to go shopping. We'd never hit the junk store together before. Its not called a junk store, naturally, but that's what it is.

   I had fun showing him little things only we would divine their true purpose, and we shared knowing smiles and blushes. I finally found one thing I was looking for. A giant, old fashioned hardwood scrub brush. I smiled as I showed it to him. He instantly knew it was meant for his ass, and it could be left around openly. No one would suspect or divine its true purpose.

   This was no thin light pine, modern mass manufactured thing. This was an antique. Big, thick, long handle. Real hardwood. Stained or shellacked or whatever they called it, waterproof. Bristles long since bent and worn, but the business end was the other side anyways. I swung it a little testing it. Ooh. This thing would be a fierce paddle.

   Once I found brushes, I found the rest near it. I discovered a little one, and it was weird. Shaped like a dog bone somewhat. Handle to hold being the inside of the dog bone shape, and squared ends that still had quite serviceable if heavy old bristles. He couldn't fathom its use, I whispered I'd have fun showing him what I was going to use it for. He shrugged and smiled. Whatever I wanted was fine. Wow, the rush.

   I was two whole dollars in, and had two great toys already. Dug through the bins, and found a treasure. A razor strop. This was another grandma toddler tale. The belt was one thing, but getting the strop was another. When a lot of people used to say "get the strap", it was a mispronunciation lost over time, from back around 1910 when men still all used straight razors and had to strop the razor daily. The leather strop? Basically a heavy duty leather paddle. It was almost but not quite worn out for its actual use, so another dollar. Three bucks in, and three great toys.

   Then I found old tack. There were bundles of old, thick, heavy leather straps. My naughty compulsion fed me a stream of snapshots of things I could do with these. Dollar a bundle, I got a couple bundles. As a farm girl, I know some metal hardware. Metal handles on flat screw plates. The handle hinges down into the recess flat. You screw several of these onto any wooden surface, and you can have tie or clip points. Too handy for a submissive dirty little slut. A dollar a box for many.

   I got a dollar's worth of carabiners. They locked. I was missing my rope. The ritual. The inherent intimacy. I have tons of soft cotton rope that I tie things to the roof rack of my car all the time. I got a roll of really rough rope. I whispered in his ear, how this stuff would cut and burn him and leave wicked marks. Another dollar.

   An old fashioned, heavy duty long chain dog leash. For slut walking fun, I whispered. Then I found pieces of old horse tack. I had to have an old bit, the straps long since worn off. Young pony size for equestrian use, human sized for… well, you get the idea I'm just sure. Then, when I thought I was all out of finds, the holy grail. My own personal paddle shelf. They were old fashioned cheese boards and cutting boards, and like items. One was bigger, thicker, and heavier and shaped better than all the others. It looked wicked and fearsome. I smiled at him and he rolled his eyes and blushed crimson. Had to have that. My naughty compulsion said I could give him a crack or two now and then, and otherwise threaten him with it. It wasn't a cheese board, the note said it had been what was once called a sausage board. Which made me giggle.

   I wasn't ten or eleven bucks in all told, and had an armload of stuff. I was ecstatic. My naughty compulsion was cheap to feed. I must be a cheap sadistic fiend, I thought. I must have a cheap slut, which is of course the very best kind, really. I took my finds up to the counter, where the old man proprietor idly checked me out. I volunteered how great this place was for decorating. My grandma and my parents, had decorated old farmhouses with random old stuff on the walls. My new apartment I just got needed stuff, and his place was great. He agreed, he got a lot of of customers for that reason. When he got to the bit and the tack straps, he asked if I wanted any more horse tack, he had more if my walls wanted something else. I shrugged, why not be up sold for another buck.

   I fell in love with an ancient but very serviceable buggy whip, and then I saw it. Light from heaven shone down on it, and a naughty angel choir sang for the dazzling light show. An old and in great shape lunge whip. Five bucks. Up sold but loving it. Come back anytime, he got new stock in constantly, mostly from estate sales in bulk. I swore I'd be a customer and we left.

   I took him to a truck stop for coffee, and I browsed on the store side of the place. Truck stop jewelry. I fell in love with a neck pendant. Heavy duty but small enough. Looked at even a close glance to be a "super" capital S. Maybe a snake on closer inspection. If you knew what to look for? It was a whip pendant in an S shape. A bullwhip. Mommy's signature weapon for slut training that marked her as a savvy professional, not some rank amateur girly girl slut tamer looking for cheap street cred. Had to have it. We were on the way home, and I wasn't barely 25 dollars lighter. I teased him all the way home that I was going to pull over somewhere, and give him a taste of my favorite new paddle, but good, over my knee in the backseat.

   When we were back, I handed him the bags and told him to go upstairs and wait for me. I'd be up in a minute to play with my new toys. And him. When I hit the bedroom, I had planned on issuing the curt order to "strip", which signaled the beginning of anything. He was ready for me. He was naked, and in his collar. He sheepishly handed me the collar padlock key. Wow. I was actually touched. He had prepared himself for me to play with him. I actually kissed and hugged him and did roaming hands.

   I sat on the bed. It was early yet, and we had all day and all night and more to ourselves. I played fetch. I couldn't help getting a few licks in with my big brush and the holy grail of paddles. I laughingly got him over my knee, and scissored his legs in and pushed his neck down for test swats. No handcuffs and ankle cuffs. Pure test fun. The big brush, was actually way better than I thought. It was heavy, the thick solid hardwood handle was strong as anything. Swung with some speed, it delivered a terrific blow. A couple halfhearted swats, then a few hard ones actually got squeals and begging. Please no, it actually hurts.

   "Oh. Really. All right then. Lets get a few good ones in. Lets see what I actually got…"

   My hand snaked up and drew his collar down tight. I wiggled the brush on his ass, and he twitched. He was actually nervous, I could tell. Hmm. I gave him a couple full force swats. Fast hard test swats, before letting him up. The commotion told me I had an actual serious thing in my hands. My strict mommy voice came out.

   "Shut it. I want ten, good, swats. I wanna see how this thing works. Do it."

   He laid over my lap slowly, looking back and up at me with trepidation. I lit his ass cheeks up with ten hard fast ones, to test it. I got nearly a scream before I was done. He was literally begging me that he was being good. To please, please don't.

   "All right. But you need to be actually scared of going over mommy's knee. The next time we take a trip to the basement? After mommy's done with her belt… this? Is going to be mommy's new paddle. This, is what you're going to get your next serious talking to with. What do you think of that?"

   He begged and groveled, he was being good, please don't. Hmm. I couldn't wait. Maybe one good ass beating with the brush? And the next time I threatened him with it, I would get real puckering and real tears, scared. Which was of course, one of my primary aims. I repeated my test now with the holy grail paddle, and the results were even more spectacular. He was teary eyed, and actually terrified of it. Wow. One good ass beating with this thing, and my work might be done here. I was done scaring him for nothing, this was supposed to be fun playing.

   "Here's the little brush. I'm going to use it as a bit gag…"

   I showed him and had him hold it in his teeth, and explained how I would tie the bit gag in with some rope. Then? how I planned on scrubbing the shower with him like I had scrubbed the kitchen floor in a similar fashion. He blushed at the prospect. I showed him the horse bit. I had sized it up for his mouth, not some horse. I showed him how it was used, how the bit was supposed to go under the tongue, then when I pulled back the "reins"? The tongue cut off the throat for air and noise. Great for control of a naughty horse. Or, I reminded him, an uppity slut if they ever needed it.

   I explained I could yank back, for silent "first thrust" when I did "hard entry". Or, I could yank back for over the knee beatings, and cut all noise off then release the reins, to hear the crying when I was done beating him for a short burst. I told him he should be very afraid if I ever came for him and wanted to fix this thing on him, he'd know he was in for an extra rough ride.

   The razor strop was an obvious ten swat test. It was less feared then the brush and holy grail paddle, but definitely was as effective or even more so, than my normal paddle that was my present go to. My naughty compulsion told me to make up an excuse, any excuse, to give the hard, real, over the knee test of the brush and holy grail right here, right now. I dispensed with the idea. Not all naughty compulsion snapshots were winners.

   While playing with my new toys, my joy was somewhat slightly overshadowed by a slight burden. A milestone had been reached in all this, but only I knew it. He had initially requested how "hot" it would be to become… forced to commit a sexual act or acts he might not necessarily want to. He had somewhat unknowingly asked to be raped by force. He had, and it was now not only on the menu, but being asked and even begged for. He had asked to not only be punished, but how "hot" it would be to actually get punished. For it to be real. When I asked what real punishment would be, he said it would be scary to get it.

   I now had the means at my disposal. And if I knew anything now about the naughty compulsion and its uninvited whispers? Anything that could be done, soon would. My telling myself I would just tease and threaten him with the big brush and holy grail paddle? That had just been my naughty compulsion telling me what I needed to hear, to tell myself what was needed to get the things home. I could feel it in the rush, when giving him ten "good" test swats to try it out. Sooner or later, something would happen that "required" punishment, and a trip to the basement. One or both of these would go down with me. They would get used enthusiastically on his poor little tookus.

   I got off on tears and humiliation now. The website described the progression of things, and how we were right up against one of the final ingredients to our perverted little meal we were cooking up. The final dash of spice was of course the over the knee punishment that would bring palpable fear into the equation. Real respect was real fear. He would sit and cry his little eyes out afterwards, eyeing me warily after that if I showed displeasure to his actions.

   The milestone of seeing real tears and puckering up with threatening him, would happen. The control and power coming over would finally be complete. The bullwhip was actually a power tool, like using a jackhammer when a little tack hammer was required to do the job right. That big brush had given me the final ingredient. I would then be able to threaten him with the brush, and the threat would be all too real.

   He would fear me. Before, I had figured on the bullwhip accomplishing this task first. It still would accomplish it, just not first. The big brush or the holy grail would. Probably the brush. Too handy and effective. The naughty compulsion said to do it now, and I ignored it. Now it said, use it instead of the planned on regular paddle. Why not get a more serious effect with less work required, when I interspersed the brutal shower rape action, with paddle crackings, imitating this morning.

   The compulsion was seductive. Its the same thing, just easier and quicker. Why waste an hour with a push mower, when the tractor and big belly mower would do the hours of work in fifteen minutes. Why piss around, with tearing up then sobbing, then crying, then more crying, then the first few tentative screams, then the real screaming. Why not just go almost directly to the screaming and get it over with.

   What was sobering wasn't that it was going to happen, I had always known it would. That was the plan after all. What was sobering was realizing that I was looking forward to it, and now knew it. I no longer pretended to be sick and twisted, I actually was. But that was okay too. It was my part in this, my role. His role was to admit he was more of a slut than he wanted to, and I would force him to admit it. My role was unrealized by me at the start. Though it was becoming clearer and clearer to me lately. My role? Was to admit I was getting off on power and control, and wielding it.

   I hadn't seen the slow progression of the events creeping up on me. At 14, wet towel snaps were a game. Teasing. Playing. A dare with my first make out boyfriend. I discovered there was something there, that I knew existed but I didn't fully understand. It was something, and it seemed to be somewhat sexual in nature, too. It "went" with sexual activity somehow and in some fashion.

   Practicing with my bullwhip I rescued and salvaged. I had woken up on rainy days in the barn amusing myself, I had my naughty little picture flashes. What was that? Oh well. I was just another person playing with a bullwhip for a fun something to do to pass time. Like anyone that played intrepid archaeologist adventurer with the hat and whip. Imitating some entertainment they had seen, that was all. Harmless.

   Then someone fed that compulsion. Towel snap boy had unwittingly fed it. He traded towel snaps for make out experience. But, the guy that saw Vaquera in all her performing glory, he had known what he was looking for. If he couldn't get anything else, Vaquera liked him for making out and maybe more. He actively got what he could. Belt swats. It was completely sexual in nature now. There was no denying it. He wanted to make out and more with Vaquera or the girl that portrayed her, but right up there was his belt swats, too. They were mixed in with the deal.

   I was cognizant of the nature of it by then. I suddenly understood all the depictions and jokes in movies. I smiled and said "tell me when". He didn't say when. It was up to me to say it for him.

   Other guys were looking for dare or bet swats, that was one thing. But, the curious young cowboys asking on the side… they were like belt boy. They had probably tasted a belt before, and wanted a lick from the real thing, to see. I didn't like them that way, and resisted. I had to like the boy to enjoy that. It was sexual, and you can't have fun without desire.

   But, now this boyfriend. I knew from the start. I picked one out because of the jokes and innuendo. It was a major check mark on my list. It raised him from almost perfect, to actual perfect. The first sex date? Saw him long before the first night got old, tied up and whipped and tears falling. I told him to say when. You can touch the radio as many times as you want, and when you quit touching the radio, that was saying when.

   He kept touching the radio. It was up to me to say when. Now he had taken the safety device off of the tool. He wanted the "when" removed from the equation. I thought I knew when I was to say "when" for him. I was off the deep end now and would never return back. Like a fishhook, the barb sticks in and now can't be pulled out without doing more damage than pushing it through or leaving it in.

   I was fast losing the sense and the sensibility to say "when". I was very near to losing the ability to say "when". This had been on the website too. The submissive came to grips with their desire and admitted it. But, the dominant? Had a job to do as well. That had to come to grips with realizing and embracing what they were, too. It was equal and fair.

   You played more and more, to make sure. Then? They wanted you to do it. To get actually mad and actually punish them. Like the out of control strict mommy wallops her toddler's ass for… whatever reason it happened for that day. The child tests the limits of mommy's patience one time too many. Finally, that strict mommy has had enough, and takes the complete and total control that only an adult can exercise over a small child. They go over mommy's lap and are held there, helpless and at the mercy of mommy. But this time, its different. This time mommy has no mercy.

   Mommy beats the helpless child senseless, and into complete and total submission. From that point on, mommy is feared. That's where this was headed, he already knew it. I had to know it. I was the one who had to do it.

   The website recommended waiting until they said or did something that actually irked you, so you could do it. It was time. The mouse trap was now fully loaded. It would snap shut on the helpless little mouse tonight, tomorrow, or a month from now. But the mouse trap would go off, that could be counted on.

   I took accurate score of myself though. I still had some shred of "when" to give. It was the last thread of a fraying rope. It still held up what it was supposed to hold up, because the last thread was intact. It would be gone soon, and the object would fall. The object was me and him. Us. We would plunge into the rabbit hole together. But my last thread was still there, intact. I'd give one last taste test. Tonight. He'd be helpless just in the shower this time. I'd switch the regular light paddle out for the new fearsome big brush. On my whim, fuck it. Give him a little more than usual. See.

   If I didn't get some kind of serious reprisal during "normal time"? Fuck it. Whenever "it" happened, whatever "it" turned out to be? Whatever. It would be time. Basement. Big brush. Naked, helpless, squirming ass. Out of control strict mommy would beat her helpless toddler senseless and into complete and total, irrevocable submission. The naughty "child" was asking for it. Give them what they were asking for. Then? The promised jeans on bull-whipping would happen soon after. Then this game that was not a game could move forward to its inevitable conclusion. The conclusion was, of course… that instead of the two of us playing at me owning him? I actually would. He had gotten real rape, he had been made to like it. He'd have then gotten actual severe punishment, again against his will. We could follow through with the planned spicy ending.

   And things like this could forever be on the menu, whenever he asked, or when I missed it. I was inordinately turned on thinking of that jeans on bull-whipping. The threat of ripping two pairs of jeans off him in a row to set the tone for our own townhouse? Even more so at that thought. Then the final promised third pair of jeans in a row warning that our own house would be predicated upon? Wow. The rush would be intense that night.

   Last taste test tonight, little boy. Then you're going to get force fed the whole plate. When? Sooner. Later. Whenever the mouse sprung the trap. Not just now though. This is fun time.

   "You've been a very good boy, ever since we started over. Mommy wants to have some fun with her pet slut."

   I played fetch for a while. It had started out silly fun, another small humiliation. How or why I actually enjoyed it now for its own sake? I gave up wondering these things. If he found me irreplaceable to him? The feeling was mutual. I could imagine asking the next boyfriend to play naked fetch. Without the inherent desire to play naughty games such as these, you can't smoke enough pot to get that accomplished. Oh, maybe once or twice they'd pick up a sock and bring it back to you, for a lark and a good belly laugh, but… not a regular game. You couldn't get real fetch going.

   Then I imagined trying to somehow ease into explaining that naked fetch? Well, if you said "no" then here's what happened. Urp.

   I smiled genuine playing naked fetch, throwing socks around. I did the tricks. Sit up, beg, roll over, play dead, scratch the tummy. I said "aw" and scratched under the chin. I petted the head, I gave kisses and baby talk like I did to a puppy. Then? I had another harmless toy. The old chain leash. I walked him. I pointed at the bed, and he hopped up. I told him he was a good boy. I walked him out of the room, and would stop, make him heel up, etc. I walked him downstairs, and all around. More naked fetch in the living room. I was carrying some socks around for doggy toys, for Christ's sake. I walked him downstairs and around the basement, to show it to my new puppy.

   I didn't know who was crazier now, me or him. Him for doing it? Or me for liking it. Or the other way around. Or? Both. I microwaved him some little pizza roll treats. I tossed them around the kitchen floor, it was dry now. He fetched and ate them. He held onto socks, and I had to tell him "give". I laughed wholeheartedly when we played tug of war with my one sock, damn it. He licked my hand. I giggled when I gave him a "drink" out of a cereal bowl. I had him sit up and beg for some more pizza rolls. I even tried tossing them until I got one to land in his mouth. I honest to god clapped when it landed in, like I would for a real dog's first "catch". Fuck, I was losing it.

   I laughed and told him if he peed on the floor, I would rub his nose in it, and he would get beat to teach him a lesson. He teased me by lifting his leg, then winked. I wanted to fucking strangle him, then laughed. When I realized I had forgotten "speak, boy!" I tried it. I got "rrrruff!" the cute lap dog noise. Not the throaty "woof!" I had been expecting. This man could actually menace a 300 pound jacked up gorilla, and effectively as hell. I had seen videos to prove it. He was no more harmful than a tiny lapdog to me.

   The website was right. Some of the most powerful men, that commanded some, or all of the personal powers available to men, often wanted this. I had a sudden urge to make instant pudding again. I would do that again sometime. It was… strangely intimate. I would never have a real dog lick food off my foot, but… if I slid any further down the rabbit hole, I would never see daylight until I came out the other side. Maybe I was already there. Who knew. I wasn't even sure.

   I "walked" him back upstairs when I was done playing with my trained puppy. I found myself wracking my brain for what other fun "tricks" I could teach him. I about now need my head examined, and I'm a fucking psych major for the love of god. Someone was right. Most psych majors were almost to a student? Slightly "off". This all qualified as off. I even had a naughty compulsion flash I could never fulfill. Have him perform for team mates, to see the looks on their faces. Ha! Let's see any of you motherfuckers get your guy to do this! I win!

   Where the fuck did that urge come from? It was followed up like many naughty compulsion urge pictures were, with a series of built upon progressions. Leave him cuffed helpless, blindfolded and gagged in the locker room and let him hear all the girls coming to change, and laughing and enjoying the show. Having him helpless in the girls shower room like we enjoyed after the wee hours, and having the same thing happen. Having other "mommies" on the team, and bring them over to… where the fuck was this coming from? Secret! No sharing!

   Well, a good number of drinks, and I could let just Little Lightning join us in the shower, to be amazed what went on in there, fucking holy hell no! This… thing in my head, was dangerous. It wouldn't shut up when it needed to. A sexual compulsion. That would never leave, it lay dormant until awakened, then grew slowly like a seed sprouting slowly… then when it gained roots and had access to water and soil and nutrients? It was unshakable.

   This was where "mommy bang" parties came from. It started out, mommy had a "friend" over. It was okay, she explained to her slut not to be afraid sitting there, tied up helpless, blindfolded. Its not a regular friend, its another mommy. It was fine. She understood. Next thing you saw in the amateur video? They were stealing kisses and he had to guess which. Touched, the game was to accurately tell from which. Riding crop swats for each wrong guess. They grew harder and more numerous as the game went on.

   Next thing you knew, all three were drunk and the slut had to now guess which one was raping him with her strap on toy in his ass, bent helpless over the couch. One held him for the other. When the girlfriend over party ended? He never got to see the other mommy, he had been blindfolded the entire time. She would have him out for normal time, and he wouldn't know it had been her friend at dinner. She explained at the end of the video. All a part of the fun games to play with a well trained slut. If they resisted, embarrassed? That was dealt with.

   I was horrified seeing these videos. I thought they were all a put-on, but no. One mommy had done it first, then others imitated and shared photos and amateur videos. Then another mommy had to outdo all the others. Two friend mommies over to have the same game. Then three. Next thing you know? Mommy gang party. One slut wouldn't play, and they all had paddles and whips to get the idea across to him. Strict mommies had gotten together, had a few drinks? That was that. Deal with it.

   They had to compete and outdo each other. One was subjected to a mommy bang party, where the objective was he had misbehaved, and they were all going to take turns teaching him a lesson he would never forget. What I had done to him last time over my knee in the basement? They all took turns doing worse. First one to get tears, got a prize. First one to get crying? Another prize. First one to get screaming? Another bigger prize.

   Then, one had to "win". She was tired of her slut, and wanted another. Like breaking up with a boyfriend for another, for the hell of it. His one mommy friend over party? Started out like the make out share party… then the friend mommy wanted to try him out. She punished him and raped him, and his owner let her go. When she decided he would do? She explained this mommy was going to take him home. She would retrain him to her tastes, and as he had just experienced, she was a lot stricter. He begged not to be given away, and they laughed and dragged him off to what was ostensibly the garage. The last bit, was the original mommy showing her throwing his clothes out. He would be naked and unable to leave his new "home", and would be much more strictly trained much to the amusement of his new owner.

   No relationship, no sense of… anything decent. One other "winning" mommy topping them all or at least in the competition, showed off two sluts. Both were helpless and blindfolded and she had a friend mommy over to play. She said she couldn't bring herself to force homosexual activity on them, but she was "getting over it", so it would happen eventually, and she would "win".

   Good sweet Christ. I wanted to show him these things, to show him he was "owned" by a good and decent "mommy". I was better, I was the best he could get. The only thing stopping me? I was afraid I would scare him that this was where it would lead to. I decided to err on the side of caution for now.

   This, was where the naughty compulsion could lead you to, without a sense of "when". Did these mommies start out with a firm sense of "when" and lost it along the line somewhere and now couldn't find it again? Or… was this part of the rules of their mommy games with their sluts. Was I just seeing standard group sex people, with a new name for the game. Or, had I just seen how it could happen. Just one little… aw, be fun to show someone my doggy tricks… maybe just one peek for my room mate to see what went on in the shower. Hey he's blindfolded and tied up in here for naughty shower… oh, you wanna take a pee? Go ahead, we're not looking. Ha ha. He wouldn't know which room mate ogled his situation. A couple times, and it probably broke the ice to try… yeah, that could happen. I wouldn't go there.

   I'm human. Did I never get winked at by a girlfriend's guy? Think… just once, wouldn't it be fun to… no! I don't do that. So, I don't. This was the same. Not being the circus freak. Not being the weird attention whore at the serious career office. I had joked about the tickling "help" though, hadn't I? Watch it, Hurry. That's how it starts.

   No. I was safe with myself. I had the natural inclination to fire girls off the wall for looking at him wrong. That's the safe place to stay at. Plus? He liked it. When you're jealous of your lover, it shows concern and vested interest.

   I scratched my naked little doggy and told him he had been a good boy on his little walk. I smiled, and said to myself in my head that this was just a selfish pleasure for me alone. I proceeded to try out my toys. I tied the little brush into his mouth for a bit gag with rope hanging extra at both ends dangling, and pretend scrubbed the dresser. I "dipped" his head into the sock drawer and back up for another scrub on the dresser top. I got behind him and bounced my midsection off of his naked butt, pulling on the "reins" to show him how I would ride him one night like a naughty little slut. You're my doggy? You'll be my horsie too. I don't know what unique feature a giraffe gives sexually, if anything identifiable. But, I'd use him for that as well, if I could figure out what a giraffe was even for.

   I had an epiphany. I tied a clean hand towel for a gag flapping above and below his mouth, and showed him how he would become, one night, a human sexual washrag. I would scrub every inch of my dirty body off with him. He seemed into it. He already licked any part of me clean or dirty I ever presented him with, so why not.

   I was in a rush, I was warm and tingly all over practically non stop. I only had to stop and think about several things quick, and the warm rush came back again. Over and over as many times as it struck me again. I knew I was feeling the romantic part of love, the endorphins and chemicals. On top of that, I was feeling a poignant spot of it, one of those magical moments where your fascination increases and lingers on.

   He had a series of experiences with regular girls that were either fun fluff or downright negative. Home and school had been less than magical for him, the period where many people's carefree fun was at some zenith. A nerd that craved the greener grass on the other side of the septic tank. A guy that did everything he was "supposed" to do with girls, and ended up in the all too real friend zone trap, then used for a "too nice" show boyfriend to be used in all ways and given practically nothing for it. Gingerbread for the parents to marvel at how good of a girl their sweet little daughter was, when the harsh reality was she was everything except.

   My own school experience while maybe not as unfulfilling as his own, had not been quite what I had pictured for myself. He went off to the service, and his stars changed. He looked up one night, and his constellation had shifted a couple to the right. He must have wished upon a star as a kid, because his wish had been heard by some interstellar power in the universe and granted. He was simply picked up over some MPs shoulder, carried politely over, and his combat boots set down on the other side of the septic tank of life. Here you are. You belong over here. With us. He got to see life from that side of the fence. Instead of the show boyfriend, he was now viewed as one of the polite bad boys around.

   Some polite and quiet hard ass that all the bad boys looked up to, singled him out. Courted him. Finished him. Had the intellectual capacity coupled with emotional intelligence and street smarts to reunite him with his true self he thought he had left behind. He reintroduced him to himself. You will no longer be two halves, I will reunite you. There will be no weld line, no brazing mark. You will be recast wholesale, and poured back into the mold that is the shape of you. What you were, what you became? I'll make you into a complete, homogeneous whole.

   Were things okay? Yeah, they had been okay. Then things got good? Yeah, real good. Then why not go from good to great, and live your life out not just being happy and not able to define it. Why not wake up everyday with rays of sunshine beaming out of your asshole. He could go back to being the nerd, he could still be the quiet hard ass, and each would make the other into more. Intellectuals wished to be hard. Hard men wished for more intellect. You have both. Be more than the sum of your parts.

   This was what he accomplished with what was to be the untimely short end of his abbreviated life. This was what got sent back for me to find. Quit trying to be like everyone else. Just actually be yourself, be different, and beam with pride. Your own acceptance of yourself will now be more powerful than any other's. You'll have to impress yourself, because they all set their own bars too low for greatness. And no one needs to know, until that great day. Like a gathering cloud of gas no one quite notices as anything spectacular, you can quietly and ignominiously compress in on yourself, and flash over and ignite. Become a bright star. If it doesn't quite happen, you'll know you tried your best, and live out your days as a gas giant. Still quite a spectacular sight.

   Almost all the other boys wanted what everyone else wanted. That hadn't worked, so… he wanted something different. He had always been drawn to that "different". Now reunited with both halves of himself, he could quit wondering why and just go for it. He no longer needed, he simply wanted.

   This was the polished treasure sent back for me to locate. He satisfied both the look and fascination I wanted. The part of me that wanted traditional niceness. Everything about me that made me different and detracted, he was fascinated with and found irresistible.

   I could be tall and big boned, and he liked me more for it. I was able to gently control conversation and decisions and I didn't get fought over it on some philosophical issue. I could take his hand and lead him and he followed. This was deemed generally "wrong" or worse held up to be some kind of ideal for girls not naturally inclined to it. He just marveled at the difference and the engineer in him saw bridges hard to traverse being skipped over and marveled at the work being done all by itself with no effort. What did he say, an engineer always takes the easy way out.

   I made jokes that came back and got sweetly blushed at. I could decide when we consummated our relationship. Also how, what we did, and why. He bent to my will, and did it willingly. I took my naughty secret desires out of my trunk, and showed him. He touched my radio again and again and begged for more of it. He enjoyed every last thing about me, that made me different then asked me to be even more different. He asked, then reaffirmed and in the end all but begged me to further it.

   If being swatted willingly was fun, why not unwillingly. If some was good, more would be better. If pretending to be taken was fun, how much more fun would being taken unwillingly be for an incomparable experience. If it was a fun and naughty game to be "punished", then why not take the quotation marks out of the air surrounding it. He trusted me and loved me and simply gave himself over to me. Use me, do what you want with me. Whatever you want. I had dared him that first night, now he dared me back. I did. I took him completely.

   This morning in the shower, I got the quick fruits of it. I had asked him to submit and surrender, and he had. He asked and begged. I was high and in a rush, waiting for that magical shower. We were both different, we would be more different, we would do it all our own way.

   I hadn't taken anything off but my hikers, he had no clothes on and was either unashamed or enjoying it. When I grabbed him and toyed with him, he pushed gently and pretended to struggle. No, please don't and we both laughed and had fun. I played some more naked fetch. I put my knees over his shoulders and settled down to some serious slutty kissing. The kind that signals its starting.

   I kiss him. I initiate the kiss. My tongue goes in first. If its a dance, I lead and he follows. I hold him and separate when I feel like it, and go back again when I feel like it. He melts into me when I do it. He melted on his knees for me now. I bodily dragged him up on the bed with me, and took him more. Sluttier kissing. More insistent, dirtier, harder. He melted like butter. I hadn't played with the rough rope, so I showed it to him.

   "I thought you liked your discount chains set."

   "I do. But I missed the tying. Its convenient to click you in now. This always took time. I miss you blushing and holding your wrists out for me when I tell you. I miss seeing the marks and teasing you about them. I miss taking the time to let you go. Hearing you promise things. It was more… intimate. It was our little ritual before it happened. It was another little ritual when I let you go."

   "So, you bought the rough stuff."

   I smiled and nodded. Licked the tip of his nose playfully for quick surprise and silly fun. I dangled it in his face, ran it over him, let him feel the extra roughness. I dragged it across his nipple with no force and he winced at the scraping.

   "Give me your hands. I'll demonstrate."

   He held his wrists to me, and I wound it around one, then around the other in a wide series of wraps, a tight figure eight. I held the loose ends snug, and pinned his hands above his head to hold him down.

   "You can feel it. It cuts in. Its uncomfortable. It will remind you, that you're captured for me to use. And… the more you pull…"

   I mounted his hips, held it firmly above his head, and tickled him for a little while. Until I got the pulling and twisting and begging, then finally the first few screams with nervous laughter and more were coming… and I quit and restarted several times. I then brought his wrists up, and slowly unwound the tight grasp on his wrists and as the rope unwound slowly, you could feel and almost hear it peeling out of the skin the rough braid had dug into. He marveled at the deep marks, the perfect imprints of the ligature marks.

   "That? Was just a few seconds of you pulling. Imagine a nice, long session where you were pulling and twisting helplessly. These marks would be so deep, so red. They'd last so long, and everyone would know what caused it. No hiding it. I miss seeing you hide marks in public. I smile and look at the marks, and you just blush and cover up, all shy."

   "This rough stuff. It would… bruise me more."

   "Oh. Way more. If you sat still, it would be bad enough after a while. This was seconds, imagine a few hours of you screaming and pulling to escape, but you can't get away. The more you pull? The worse it cuts in and burns and cuts into you. Mm."

   "Are… you really going to use it on me for that?"

   "Maybe not right now, but… definitely. Many wraps around your wrists, your ankles. A long time of making you twist for your life to get away, and you can't. Get that nice rope burn around your waist or your thighs, where I use it to hold you down, to keep you still, to take it more. Oh, yeah… I can't wait. It'll be for when we have days of privacy. When I let you go, finally? You're gonna sit there and rub your wrists and ankles for a while. They're gonna get tender and hurt. When I hold you with my hands after that first time? That's gonna hurt too. You won't be able to leave the townhouse, because there will be no hiding what I did to you. I'm gonna get so wet seeing it. Like my whip marks on you. I'm gonna put marks on you. Show that I own you. Does that make you hot thinking about it?"

   It did. I gave him another demonstration. I wrapped it tight around his mouth and held the ends tight, for a gag and a handle. Threw him around some by it. When I slid it out of his mouth finally, letting him go, he felt the corners of his mouth. He had felt the roughness, how it bit in and he couldn't wiggle his head.

   I was toying with him, playing with him. I did it easily and confidently. No more misgivings about how or why, I just wallowed in my dominance over him. It now came easily, and unbidden. I wasn't pretending anymore, it had become real. I didn't have to act or put on a show. I was just reality acting, being myself. Typecast if it was still acting, which it had to be because I turned it on and off at will when it was appropriate to do so.

   "Hmm. So, you're a… rope expert. From growing up on the farm? How convenient for me. Its nice to know I'm being tortured by an expert."

   "Hmm. I guess, I kinda am. Rope is like whips. To most of the world? Seeing whips around is strange, and something really weird is going on in that house. Rope, too. You walk into someone's apartment, and see piles of rope around, you think what the hell is this used for. Why is it so handy and ready to grab. Now, on a farm? You need whips around handy. You need all kinds of cord and rope."

   "So, tell me about rope then."

   "Hmm. Someone, is getting all hot and bothered, mm?"

   He blushed and nodded.

   "Hmm. All right. Naughty bedtime story about rope, huh? Rope is like whips. It wasn't invented for use on people. Whips are for animals. Rope is for securing something. So hay bales don't flip out and cause an accident on the road. To tie a gate shut and keep the animals in that broke the latch. You rope a calf, to do things you have to do to it. You tie things to the wall or the rafters, for more room. You tie an animal's back legs together, that kicks and can kill you. So they can walk slow, and not kick you. They keep it up? You can whip them, to teach them a lesson. The rope holds them, for their lesson."

   "You'll teach me lessons. When you get me in your own townhouse?"

   I whispered in his ear, lurid.

   "Lots of them. All the time…"

   He blushed.

   "What about all the… sailor's knots. You're like some… boy scout earned all his merit badges."

   "Oh. You're a regular person. You know a bow, you tie your shoe with it. So you can undo the laces easily. You only know probably one other thing. You tie a knot. There's a million different knots, that's a square knot. It works loose? They tie two or three square knots over."

   "It works."

   "Like a turd works as a pencil, sure. You can write your name. Sort of. Knots are, half science half art. You really like hearing this?"

   "Its… I never would have believed it, before that third date started? If someone told me I was going to get hard and wet and squirming for it, from hearing a naughty bedtime story all about rope and knots. Now? I'm… practically dripping."

   I touched him, and giggled.

   "We'll keep it up. I know how to have fun with that situation, later. So… using a turd for a pencil."

   "I love the ever so delicate way you farm girls put things. Girly girls are so crude."

   "You want things to stay put. You might need them handy to get undone, you might need to get it undone with one hand, while you hold something else."

   "Mm. I don't know why it was so hot? But, when you had that knot you just yanked to let me down after working me over with the wet towel, in the women's shower room? It was hot."

   "That's a hitch. Your shoelace? You need to pull both strings, to undo it. If you don't, it makes a little knot and now you're stuck. Its like a half bow. You yank the one string. Its free. You can hold something up, and drop it when you need to, one yank. You can drop a gate on a pissed off cow, and you can't let go of the rope got them in the stall finally. You'd get killed if you didn't let the gate fall when you yanked."

   "Its… hot when you run the rope up over a pipe, and over to you. You look so sexy standing there. All… proud of yourself."

   "Hmm. That's a simple pulley to throw rope over something, like a pipe or a rafter. You can hold way more up, after its already up? When its thrown over and back down like that. Yeah, I guess its dramatic to you. You're strung up helpless, like a hay bale. I yank the hitch, down you come free. Does it make me seem more… powerful to you? The way I control you like that."

   More blush.

   "Yeah…"

   "Well? I'll have to do it more. You just wait till we have our own fraidy hole."

   "What. Same things would happen to me down there. Same hole."

   "Well, yeah. But… I'll leave ropes laying around. That one I throw up over the pipe? Hitch to the gate? Pffft. Things like that just left out. Handcuffs hanging, waiting to just click click and there you are. Helpless. At my mercy. Hoping against hope, I decide I'm going to have some mercy on you. I'm going to have a few strategically located… tie points. Wrap hitches. Pulleys. And… this should get you all hot…"

   "Go on."

   "Hmm. I just know it. You know how you're strung up, hands over your head, dangling, waiting for me to give it to you, as long as I feel its necessary this time?"

   He nodded and blushed.

   "Its cheap. I'm going to have a little… electric winch. I'll click your wrists in, they're waiting for you. Then walk over and push a button. Up, up, up… nice and snug? There. When I'm done using you? Push another button. Your hands come down. Let me guess. Hot, right?"

   "Smoking hot. Industrial… whatever."

   "That's why I wish I could get you down to my barn alone, when everyone's away at some fair or a big faraway auction. The barn? Has privacy. You can scream your head off, no one will hear. And all this… stuff is all around me, with lots of open room to use the big whips on you if I want. I definitely will, believe me. Can't pass that fun weekend up. I'll take full advantage of that. Then throw you over hay bales, to take you. Tie you to posts for more. Tie you over a hay bale to sleep if I want. Wake up and decide to wake you up with a particularly harsh rape? Right there, waiting for it. Use you all night like the dirty little slut you really know you are now."

   I felt his interest meter. Leaking.

   "You, are springing a leak."

   "Is the rope talk done? What about… kinds of ropes."

   "Oh. Cotton rope is soft, finer weave. Won't damage things tying things down. I use it to put my boxes and bags on the roof rack, so I don't drive home feeling like I'm in a supply wagon, looking for things that should be laying on the seat handy for me. Like my drink or my phone or my Bluetooth player. So, it hurts you less to tie you with it. Same thing, even though it was for loads you want protected and still need secured. When I use cotton rope on you? It shows that mommy cares, and wants to protect you and not damage you, or your finish. The marks are less noticeable, and go away quicker. Its mommy being sweet, securing you when she needs you secured. It wont ruin the finish of the table legs in the kitchen, too."

   "And, the rough stuff?"

   Sometimes, you want that roughness. You don't care if it roughs the finish up of the thing getting tied down, or the thing its tied to. It doesn't matter. What matters, is that something won't slip out. It grabs and holds. Like hobbling an animals legs together so it can walk but not run or kick. Cotton rope? Doesn't control as good. The rough stuff works better. Knots won't slip as easy, hurts more to try to get free. When mommy comes at you with the really rough stuff? You know that for the night? Mommy wants you to be even more helpless. For it to hurt to try to get away. Mommy doesn't care if it marks you up. You're not tied to an expensive kitchen table, you're tied to some old post in a dirty basement. Who cares. That's the kind of night you can look forward to, when mommy comes for you with the rough stuff in her hand. I want it to hurt more, I want the marks to be worse, to last longer. That's mommy not caring that night."

   "Will those nights… happen?"

   "Oh. Definitely, they will. You can count on it. Every once in a while? Be extra rough with you. Let you know I can. Tie the ropes tighter, to hear you squeal when you pull. You can even get some blood on your wrists and ankles, if I'm using you particularly rough that night. Those nights will happen. Sometimes you ride a slut gentle, some times you ride them… rough."

   "Any other ropes?"

   "The cotton, fine weave is the original soft rope. There's other kinds of even softer now. Some are shiny and pretty. Think… decorative ropes. On draperies, lines at the bank. Or curtains at shows. That? Would be for a special occasion. The photo I take of you? It would be all pretty, tied up with decorative but still somewhat functional rope. Very gentle marks left. Say, for an anniversary? Of our first rape… that would be the night for using you like… my little princess. Show you how valuable you were to me, that I really cared about how it felt."

   "Will I get that."

   "Once in a while, sure. You? Are not going to be some spoiled princess slut, thinking its all for your fun. You exist for my pleasure. You're just along for the ride. Rough or sweet, or in between. But yeah. You'll get gently used once in a while. Definitely. Pretty ropes, maybe some soft, shiny fake satin sheets. Sweet pictures to add to my collection."

   "Collection."

   "Oh. When I first said okay, and I told you I needed a couple weeks to look into it? I started keeping pictures, videos. Of every single training session. Every one of them. I save them. I have them in a special folder on my laptop. I'm going to have a complete, very explicit collection. Naughty movie nights? Will be way more fun. We'll be able to have naughty movies two weeks straight. In our townhouse? We'll make popcorn and watch the good ones. I'm picturing cuffing you to the chair, making you watch a rough one. Big screen TV in our bedroom, play a really twisted long one while I use you. And when we're done training you? I'll have it all saved."

   "I'm gonna make mister computer wizard organize it. Sort it. Name it what I want. Make a list to click on and go to stuff. So… when I go away all weekend for a big game or tournament? I'm gonna call home, we can see and talk on our videophone app. I'm gonna know, that you're at home. Watching your favorite porn. Of me using you. I'm gonna have you put something on I like, you'll show me on the camera that's the one. I'm gonna have you… take care of yourself right in front of me on camera. Let me see it go off. Demand you clean up your mess, while I watch and tease you on camera. I'm going to use you and have fun with you from two states away."

   "Really?"

   "Hun… I'll make you use a toy in front of me. Tell you what I want next. And if you don't do it? You'll know what you'll get when I get home, for defying me. Tell me what you think will happen then. Go on."

   "Basement."

   "And in the basement?"

   "Whip jeans off of me… "

   "And more. After I've whipped the jeans off of you the first time? So you know how hard the bullwhip can lick you when I want… after you get your final greased up hard one we talked about… you'll do what my voice tells you on the phone. Because you'll know what happens when I get back if you don't please me. I'll be letting you see me getting off, too. Its a two way street. Neither one will ever go looking for fun anywhere. Its at home, even when we're apart. Plus? You know I'm gonna rough you up a little right before I go. That first night? You get the rough ropes right before I go. There's at least a day or two you won't leave the bedroom. Other marks I leave on your ass or anywhere else I don't want shown in public without me there? I'll just leave them good enough they last till I get back. Don't think for a second I can't get a week out of them. You know I can and will."

   "Because you're showing how much I mean to you, really."

   "I am. I'm a strict mommy, I have to keep you in line. I'm keeping you from getting yourself into trouble. I'm just getting wet doing it, its a bonus."

   "You mentioned your barn, you said use your big whips on me. You mean big whip."

   "No. WhipZ. Plural. Every whip has an original purpose. Every one has its own use on you."

   "Riding crop."

   "Riding crop is for riding. Short, handy. Most people think whips are for whipping, most hardly ever get used for that. I touch my horse, its like a joystick to control complicated things fluently. Like barrel racing. I'm rubbing with more or less pressure, to lean more or less. Running flat out and racing? He knows walk, canter and gallop. Long race, I want to set pace. The taps or rubs, coming lighter or harder, faster or slower, let me set a fine control on pace, and keep it adjusted for the long haul."

   "I just got tied and whipped till I cried."

   "You did. Sure. You also… get tapped, and pointed at, when I sat on you for… lecture time. I've taught you some mommy riding commands. Deeper, softer. You're my fuck horse. Mommy rides you. Mommy commands you. That's you. My own personal slut I like to ride. So, I take the time to teach you how I like it."

   "Mm. I like mommy rides."

   "Mommy likes them too. I see someone wants the whip naughty documentary now too, huh? Okay. But if that thing explodes? You're going down to the basement for it. Its going to hurt more without the love chemicals protecting you from the pain, turning it into pleasure. Extra shame and humiliation to get it like that, helpless and being punished without the pleasure chemicals. If I ever wanted to hurt you mean? I'd give you some hand over my bare thighs. You'd pull around and squirt off. Then? Really give it to you good when you'd really feel it, and die from shame."

   "You'd do that?"

   "I will. When you need real punishment, to finish this off? Sure. You're going to squirt in my lap, then I'm really going to lay into your naked, squirming ass. Probably with the big brush you're so scared of. Do that job right. You'll be helpless over mommy's lap. And mommy will beat you into complete submission. Stand you up, and make you show me the marks. Then, you'll get it all over again. With the new giant paddle. I mean really good. Then, you'll show me those marks. I'll have a nice video of it, to show you when I need you to remember to listen. This comes over the next weeks, before we're done. When I've done that finally? I'll have you disciplined. I'll get crying and begging when I threaten you with the scary thing. You'll be a fully trained slut then. More useful to mommy, when you're fully trained."

   "Hmm."

   "Why you so wet hearing about it, hmm? You'll learn how to beg, after that. I guarantee it. But, that's another day. If you don't squirt off hearing about naughty whip talk. So, that's a riding crop. There's tons more."

   "What's the new ones you bought?"

   "We'll get to it. In order. After riding crop, there's others. There's a million names, and everyone sits and has this stupid… whip PhD argument, when this turns into that. Basically? All riding crops. Longer, shorter, medium. Thicker, thinner. Meant to do something else a little bit, like… walk beside him if you're not riding. Still touch and poke gently to issue commands. A longer riding crop? Mommy would burn and sting you lots more, quicker. Even though its called something else, a long, thin, strong but flexible riding crop? Very serious sting. Couple good shots, I get the little screech I need to hear out of my slut. There's a whole family, of basically different lengths and thickness of crops. Best way for you to understand them."

   "Nice to know you have choices."

   "Tons. I'm going to treat myself to a nice long one, very thin, strong, and flexible. So I can give it to you nice and hard, for a long time. Without the tissue damage. Those hard things. I want more fun, not quick fun then waiting for days. Couple good stripes every night from riding my personal slut like he's bred for."

   "Nice to know I'm useful."

   "You're useful now. You will be infinitely more useful, when fully trained. All living things that exist to serve you, benefit from the extensive training period. Why would you, be any exception. You, are coming along very nicely. Mommy is pleased so far."

   "Thank you for the compliment."

   "You're very welcome. Next there's an assortment of switch like devices. Longer, shorter, thicker, thinner, stiffer, more flexible. Useful for walking, plowing, pack walking, sorting. What have you."

   "Not the hottest part of the documentary."

   "I guess not. Now, you saw mommy buy a used buggy whip. That, is unique. Long, thin, flexible handle. Fairly long lash, not too long. Strong though. That? Gives a very… sharp cut. When buggy riding. For your ass? That's a very red, raised up welt. One good one? I'll get your attention quick. You? What you just did? Don't do that!"

   "Glad its for a touch now and then."

   "Oh. I use that on you for more than several? Hard ones because I mean it? You won't forget that lecture. It'll get to the point quick. Lash has no tissue damage. I can leave marks that last for many days if I give it to you good with it. You won't want it again."

   "Will you…"

   "Every whip I get my hands on. Will sooner or later get used at least once, in an extended discussion. Variety is the spice of life. A mechanic has many screwdrivers. I have many whips. No different. Whatever one is most useful, whatever one suits my mood."

   "So, I should be afraid of the buggy whip."

   "A riding crop? Is any new mommy's best first whip. Easy to grasp its use. Harder or gentler, faster or slower. Easy for a new mommy to grasp. A new mommy, can learn by doing with a crop. No chance of you going to the hospital on accident. A new drunk mean mommy? Can paste your ass with it all night, you'll live. Safe that way. Easy to understand it, easy to control it. Not like the more professional whips, that require experience and practice."

   "Like mommy's bullwhip."

   "Exactly. You can kill a slut, before you could get an ambulance there or realize what happened and get them to the emergency room. Lose an eye permanently, lose one or both testicles, its no joke. You? Are lucky mommy knows what she's doing with that thing."

   "I feel luckier knowing, than experiencing it."

   "That's the whole idea of a whip. Once used correctly, the animal fully trained? Rarely a need to use it. I snap on bulls I know, don't even touch them. Its there if I need it though."

   "Good to know."

   "For me? Very. For you? Not as much. But, that's the whole idea. Now. The other one you saw… that's a lunge whip, that's… the whip you master before you have any business picking up your first bullwhip."

   "Bullwhip? Doctorate. Lunge whip… masters?"

   "Yeah. Its right under bullwhip, for experience. Remember my new mommy analogy?"

   "Yes."

   "Riding crop. Easy to control, easy to aim. Any silly twat can pick it up and learn by doing. The buggy whip? Same deal. You want to get there quicker, less work, less strokes? The buggy whip hurts more, hurts quick… but still easy enough a silly new twat can learn by playing. Easy to control. The lunge whip? No…"

   "Dangerous?"

   "Long shaft, and that's a long one for a lunge. You don't use that for a switch. I guess you could, if you cut off the lash. But… no point. A stick works fine. The shaft length, the lash length… is a very personal thing for you. You try a selection out, so you know what you want in one. A riding farm, for instance. Worth the price, just to try them out. So you don't have to buy ten to get the one you needed."

   "What's so special for it?"

   "Regular people, used to see it as the lion tamer's whip, before they did away with circuses. You can crack that long lash, once you know how, making a very loud snap. Not quite the explosion of my bullwhip crack, but close. More of a penny firecracker, than a whole 22 going off. Hard to control, just like a bullwhip. Long reach, you need open space. You can take an eye out, you can open up a testicle, you could open a vein on a slut's neck. Very, very, dangerous."

   "Now I'm scared."

   "Mommy knows what she's doing. Gives mommy reach, like the long bullwhip. Same three strokes, too. The snap is a lash stroke. But, because of the long shaft? Once you know how you can snap next to you, without taking your own eye out. Bullwhip you can't easily do that. Straight up in the air, maybe, but… its an unnatural motion. You can snap it beside you, quick. Rapid fire. Snap, snap, snap."

   "Its for making noise."

   "Oh, sure, like a bull-whip's main use is noise and reach. But… there's three strokes. That snap. Near, or far. You can reach out and snap near their head. Once you have aim and control. Which is almost as hard as a bullwhip to master. There's the laying it on, just like the bullwhip. You whirl and lay it on. Naturally, that long thin lash? Wraparounds are a thing. Very thin welt, when laid on or wrapped. Thin red line. Like a long thin switch, but in a lash. Thinner, longer. Very, very, very burn-y and stingy. Almost no tissue damage underneath. I could work you over, from a distance. Lays and wraps. Less work than the bullwhip. Less chance of danger to me, if I don't know what I'm doing. You can paint a slut with lays and wraps all day. A lunge whip session, if I needed to have that long a talk with you? Would be a very… long… night."

   "And the lash strokes."

   "The bullwhip, when you use any power at all, quickly can rip skin and tear it. This, makes smaller teardrops. Thinner lash, must less chance of ripping flesh. You can still rip or tear, but smaller rip. Less chance of that fatal artery snipped, opening the lung up between ribs. Less chance, not never, mind you. You can bring the power of the lash up and get finer control over it. I can't use the bullwhip with any real force, until I get jeans on you, and whip them off you for that. The lunge? I can bring the power up smoothly, and make serious little teardrops, even drops of blood, without any more than surface cuts. Mommy could make it a very long night for you, and you'd live to get it again."

   "Now you're scaring your slut."

   "Sure. The horse, or the slut… learns who is in control. As my slut? You're like a horse to me. You could easily kill me, injure me, run away and there's nothing I can do about it, if you get the devil in you. I need to take control, provide you with leadership, gently bring the control and power up smoothly… then use the full power when needed. An intelligent, submissive horse? Very, very valuable commodity. If you know your mommy is valuable, to a rich pervert, renting a good mommy out? So too, are you very valuable. An intelligent, submissive, eager to please horse, I mean slut… is the most valuable thing in the world to a smart mommy."

   "You value your slut."

   "Very much. A good horse? Can be priced only for the millionaires that can afford one, already trained with the ability to take new training. Mommy is already very jealous of her fine slut, and will make him even more valuable, and grow even more jealous, when I'm done training you."

   "And the training is more fun."

   "Oh. You have no idea how much fun it is for me, little boy. You make mommy squirt her panties. Now. The lunge is more for training and exercising, than scare and big punishment."

   "Exercise?"

   "Its main purpose."

   "How would you…"

   "Knew you'd ask. You take a lead rope. Just a long rope, attached to the head or neck. Like your metal ring on your collar here, for instance. Get you naked, out in the open, privacy. Give you a long rope, and tell you to run around me, in a circle. Train you to walk, jog, run. Crawl or whatever I teach you to do. I say walk. Horse doesn't know the word yet. You don't walk, I snap. Horse moves a step. Walk. Snap. Walk. Snap. Horse starts walking. Horse learn to walk when I say walk. I yank on the rope, horse stops up. I ran rip you off your feet by a rope on your collar, trust me. You'll stop walking or running or crawling or anything else I yank your lead rope. Instinct."

   "Sounds mean."

   "It can be. The smarter the horse, the more submissive and eager to please? The quicker it picks it up. The more its just the occasional snap, no lay on, no wrap, no lash needed. You exercise until you're told to stop… you obey commands once I know you know what they mean… you take my discipline? Just a noise and some commands, and you perform for me. Now. You don't listen? Pain. You still won't listen? More pain, coming faster. If I have a stubborn slut, I can rope it to a limited run, and stand back out of range, and lash the shit out of it, all… day… long… so like I said, if I ever needed that? It would be a very, long, night indeed for you. Extended training sessions. Lots of discipline, doled out over a very long time."

   "Very mean."

   "If I have to be. Yes, very. Downright cruel. But… if you're smart, if you submit and listen, take discipline… you get trained with very little pain. You want trained with less pain, right slut?"

   "If I can."

   "Look what happened to you. You got some punishment, until you finally got some serious lessons. Then? You submitted to me and my discipline. When the horse submits, sorry, when the slut submits to your discipline? You back off. Will you stay in submission to your mommy, little slut?"

   "I will."

   "Good. It will be better for you, I can tell you that much. I know how to train and control a thousand pound animal, and it works. It all works on my slut, just the same. If you think I can discipline and submit a thousand pound animal, and something a little over two hundred pounds will pose a serious problem? Not at all. Since I told you, you know the day will come. I want to go somewhere private and open. I'm going to exercise my naked, collared slut. And use that lunge whip for its intended purpose. I'll issue commands, and you'll follow them. Any problems will be met with quickly escalating pain."

   "If you need roped off, and I stand back for a nice, long, lashing lesson? Couple minutes, couple hours. Whatever it takes. I simply will. Then, we'll go right back to exercising, until I get a perfect set of commands and discipline. It ends the same way, no matter what. The lunge training session. With a well disciplined, completely obedient slut. Its just a matter of how much pain, how many marks, how many drops of blood we have to go through to get there. It all ends the same place, though. A very well disciplined slut."

   "Are you really going to…"

   "What I just said? Sure. I told you, when your main training ends, I take you away somewhere for just over two weeks. Now that I have a lunge, and I know how to use it? I think an extended series of lunge training sessions, will replace the heavy bullwhip session. I'm replacing that, with whipping the jeans off you, so you won't be jealous of the others. Safer for you, too. I will have, oh… say, 16 to 20 days alone in the middle of nowhere with you? Plenty of lunge discipline training."

   "The last several days will be some care for you, then a couple days of the promised fun. You'll get to do things to me you never did, and I'll love it. I'm starving to get used for a fuck hole, rough. That has to wait. When I let you loose on my holes, I'll enjoy it. A greedy animal, raping mommy rough. Yum. My once a week rough ride, is waiting six weeks. I'll get six days straight of it, along with some other fun for you as well in those six days. If the lunge discipline goes well? You stand to get mommy showing you the respect she demands of you, coming back now. If, you're good. If you train well."

   "What kind of…"

   "Don't you kneel, and kiss it? Show mommy respect, for having fucked you so thoroughly. After you're turned loose on mommy's holes finally, again if you train well to get that, mind you. You'll get that same respect back. Exactly the same back. Let that sink in."

   "I get to…"

   "Uh huh. When mommy has an obedient, submissive well trained horse… it gets special treats when she sees it now and again. An obedient, submissive, well disciplined slut? No different. You submit to mommy, take strict discipline… you get treats when mommy tells you that you can have them after that. You see, only an idiot thinks a horse is just something you beat and make it listen. That's crude. That's a horse that isn't worth very much. It now takes 20 times longer or more even, to get one tenth out of the horse. As could be had because I know what I'm doing."

   "Mommy will treat me well."

   "Where does mommy stable her dirty little slut. Look around you. Luxury stable. Female sluts to look at that you enjoy the leg and pantie show all morning and every night. Tell the truth. My guess is, Little Lightning and those long cut legs, is your favorite to notice, running around the kitchen and living room, right? Admit it. You won't get whipped for admitting it. Its candy for you to enjoy, because that's what happens to be in my stable for now. We deal with it. You can't go in her stall, but… you can watch her around the yard. Eye candy. You don't even have to pull that thing off, because mommy sees to that, nightly."

   "You… are wicked."

   "I grew up on a farm, little slut. Not some… fantasy princess park. People are animals. Animals fuck. Animals like to look even when they can't fuck. Fact of life. You think a farm girl doesn't know exactly what goes on when things are stabled together? Pffft. Farm kids don't get birds and bees talks. We grow up seeing it, right there. Foot long dongs fly out all day long on a farm, its no mystery. You put a horse up in a stable. You keep it exercised. You discipline it, of course. You ride it to keep it from going stir crazy. Herd animal. Needs run. Are you not in a very comfortable stable? Highest quality grain, we're all athletes at a top university sports program, hun. You like to work out. In two years, mommy takes you and her to a private stable, same as this one. Mommy will train you more, some more discipline due to the extra privacy. And ride you all around the stable constantly. My slut will get the intellectual enrichment it craves too. A smarter slut is a better slut."

   "You're…"

   "A realist. I wasn't raised on princess stories. Farm. Animals. Farm boys, dirt bikes and tackle football. Once you asked for… discipline, for fun? Then… wanted it more… compulsory, we'll say. Pffft. Here we are. And you? Fucking love it. Look down at that thing. Dripping. Throbbing. Twitching. Mommy's little stud slut. You? Are already more valuable to me than any horse I ever saw, and will be so much more when I'm not even done yet. By the time we're both doctors? No luckier and no more appreciative farm girl will have ever lived. You do know, when the horse, sorry. I mean… when the slut is owned by an experienced and smart farm girl? Lots of good things come to that slut."

   "Such as…"

   When my horse was well disciplined, and was eager to please me? Grooming. Horse's favorite thing, next to treats. Horses like being owned, and like being taken care of. Brushed, cleaned, lots of warm soapy water. Warm oil rubdowns. Leg rubs. Kept warm in winter, cooled down in summer. Exercised and kept in top shape. Best feed, best treats. No, you can't expect results from just whipping something, getting basic command obeyed. Then storing it, like some dirt bike, until you feel like kicking it over and running it. Doesn't work like that."

   "How does it work."

   "Daily time. Walks, runs. Time together. My horse loved me. Before it passed, I was its favorite thing in life, let alone person. It would jump and run around, at the slightest sight of me in the distance, my scent in the air, the briefest sound of my voice on the wind. Just… like… you are now. If coyotes or anything was coming around the barn? I slept down there and shot at it. Nothing, not even a bear, is going to frighten much less take a chunk out of mommy's horse. Or? My slut which is even more valuable and precious to me. My horse returned it back to me. Two way street."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. Young, we didn't have a horse farm, we did animals. My horse? Was my favorite thing. I tried showing young. You know, the stupid outfit, sitting straight. Mean lessons from some stern old prune. Total shit. Egg on a spoon, cantering. You have to discipline your horse to walk just right. Not move. Horse hated it, and so did I. Anyways, my pleasure pair was…"

   "Excuse me. Pleasure pair?"

   "Ha. Sounds better than what it is. Horse girl we teamed up for doubles shows. Tall, fat, dyke looking cunt. Anyways, we had a child's argument. Typical kid thing. She held a grudge. She's working up the nerve, to get me alone and try again to put a job on me. She thinks because she's taller and fatter she can do it, if she just gets mean enough. Anyways, my horse won't let her near me. This goes on, in the off season for a while. Now normally, a well behaved horse will accept basic commands and behave, for anyone they can smell horse on, that has that confidence. He gets in between us, rears and bucks, puts on a show. He won't listen to me. He'll do it, no matter what I lay on him. The hell. Just her though. Weird."

   "He knew something was up."

   "Yeah. Animals can smell and sense, any animal getting up the nerve to do something. They watch you when your back is turned, they're waiting. That's what another horse does before he challenges the older one yet again. Finally, she got her fool's courage up, got me alone and cornered, and tried her shit. I got her, but it was touch and go for a minute. I told daddy, he reminded me what that horse had been doing. Just to her, for a couple months. I'm lashing him, he's taking it, to keep protecting me. He knew better than I did, and took it to keep in between us. Daddy said I better be real nice to him, he loved me and I was hurting him when he was trying to protect me. You have no idea, how many hot oil rubdowns he got after that. I'd sleep down the barn with him, extra hay, extra feed. Blankets in the winter, and go down to check it was still on him."

   "Happy horse."

   "Hmm. You bet. You… wanna be a happy slut later on down the line? Yes?"

   "Sounds good."

   "Horses love a hot oil rubdown. Think a slut would like one?"

   "We could try it once, see how it felt."

   "Uh huh. I thought so. All that hot oil, slathered all over you. Rubbed in for a long time. Working those muscles, with my strong hands, for hours. All… oiled… up. See, you oil a horse, for more than the obvious. Now, the pelt is oiled up. Fights fleas and ticks and chiggers and biting flies. And mosquitoes. And whatever else lives on their blood and flesh. When you ride a freshly oiled horse bareback? Kinda hard. You really have to grip tight with your thighs and legs. You can't turn quick or you get slid off, and it ain't the horse's fault. Mommy will want to ride you, after you're oiled up, little slut. On plastic."

   "Oh my."

   The game? I came up with the idea recently. Mommy has to now grip you extra tight, lock her legs around you nice and tight. You? Get to try to slide mommy off. Buck her off. We have to make it fair, I'm thinking… hands cuffed in front, so I have a chance to control you. Then… we'll see who wins. Winner, gets something special. Maybe, park in the loser's rear, for a rough ride. Like I said, good things come to horses, and little sluts, that return mommy's loyalty and love. Do I have a little slut that might like a hot oil ride, after a nice warm rubdown, hmm?"

   "How do I win?"

   "We'll figure out rules. Points for sliding mommy off. A point for getting mommy off your… riding horn. Mommy will get points, by… time on. Time spent on the riding horn. Mommy doesn't get a riding whip, that wouldn't be fair. Bare hands, bare skin riding challenge. Could take half the night, to see. You never know."

   "I'm in."

   "Not so fast. You need to submit, and stay submitted, to my discipline. You have to show me good lunge training, and pass that two week course. You need to stay… we'll call it, lunge certified now and again. You stay in submission, you're obedient and well disciplined? Definitely one of the rewards. There's lots of rewards for a well trained slut I have planned. You in?"

   "Please…"

   "Uh huh. First things first. Get your training done. Get your lunge discipline. Then? Enjoy the fun days. When we come back, we'll be a more… normal couple again. And by that, I mean about as normal as we can be. If you know what I mean by that, and I think you most certainly do. But then… just be good. And really good things will happen. Most of the time, anyways."

   "You have me so hot right now."

   I pinned his hands down and smiled down at him. Teasing him by coming down for extra slutty kisses that stopped and got turned into teases.

   "I know. I want you all, hot and bothered for my shower fun you begged for. Then? You're going to get a serious fucking out here in the bedroom. Followed? By… some kind of fun for you."

   "What kind of… fun."

   I grabbed him rough by the chin.

   "You'll find out then. Now… stay."

   I got up off him, and kind of strode over to the dresser, where things were laying out for me to pick them up and play with them. I looked back at him laying still, like I told him to. He was laying there waiting to be played with. After fucking him up against the wall, and manhandling him around several other times? I could pick him up to play with him as well. I picked up the big brush, and turned around, smiling, letting him see it. I held it up like a game show host, showing off the prize. I walked over to the bed, pointing it at him. Strict mommy voice now.

   "Ass up in the air."

   He rolled over and put his face down and lifted his butt for me, rather obediently. I hauled off and gave him a hard crack with it. A really good one. He ate some blanket, reminding me of my own first rough anal. He made his little noise into the blanket, scrunching his fists into the bedclothes, cramming his blanket sandwich in.

   "Couple more. If you don't make me chase you around…"

   I tapped him with the big brush, making him jump.

   "Knees apart more. Just like you're waiting to be fucked. Arch that back. Stick that little ass out for mommy. Better. You stay like that for a couple? It'll all be over for now. This isn't even a correction. Mommy's trying out her new brush on you. I bought this for a toy, you know. Something we can hang up, and only we know what its for. I'm deciding. If its a toy, or… something I'm going to really use on you. Stay still, or you get more."

   I touched him several times. Poking him, rubbing it on his ass. Tapping him with it lightly. Teasing. Then when he quit jumping from teasing, he settled down. That's when I lit his ass up not quite as hard as I could, but close. I was amazed. His noise into his blanket sandwich was quite substantial. His ass had lifted a little from the impact. The crack was resounding. The little waves that shimmered around the edges of the impact site. His ass danced.

   "Stay still! You want more? I want three really good ones. Fast ones. Your ass stays still for it. Don't make me tell you again."

   I teased a while more, admiring the jumps and nervous twitches. I reared back, and twisted my hips into three really fast, really hard ones. Better than the first test swat. Twisting my hips into them really laid the cracks into his ass well. I went back to teasing him with it, until he settled down.

   "Stop with the whiny shit. Immediately. And take that blanket out of your mouth. Unless you want more."

   He pulled the blanket out, so I could hear his whiny sniffling.

   "You're really scared of this thing getting used on you, aren't you. Speak."

   "Yes mommy."

   "I want you to imagine going over my knee. Mommy's mad, and already took her belt off. Then instead of the paddle? Mommy started using the brush instead…"

   The squealing and whining I got was my answer.

   "This is my paddle now. You'll get corrected with it, when I decide to. And the next time we have to go down into the basement?"

   I twisted my hips into a final hard surprise crack, and I was fairly certain it was was as hard as I could deliver it. With the blanket out of his mouth, and not expecting it, I heard the surprised squealing whine, and the little sobs.

   "That's what you're going to get. We're going to have a nice, long talk. Just me, you and the brush. Then? We'll see where we're at."

   He had buried his face into the bedclothes, to stifle noises and out of what I knew was embarrassment. I took the opportunity to light his ass up with the buggy whip, a nice solid shot that made the crack of the lash. A couple foot handle and shaft covered in tightly braided and woven leather. It worked down into the tapering lash end, not quite as long as the handle. The leather lash end wrapped nicely across his ass. I followed it up with a couple more hard ones. He danced around and buried his face and ate a blanket sandwich.

   "All right. We're done."

   I had what I wanted. He seemed positively terrified of the big brush, and I already knew about the holy grail and his thoughts. I switched back to nicer mommy. Voice, tone, mannerism. Christ, I love this. I'm getting almost schizophrenic, but I'm loving it. He was nervous now, and I got him over and laying down, and calmed him down by kissing him and teasing him for stopped kisses. I get off now on keeping him nervous, frightened, scared.

   I'm smiling and enjoying sitting across him, supporting myself above him, looking down and smiling. I can amuse myself by running the buggy whip over him. Little taps flipping it onto him. Watching him twitch at first, before settling down when he finally realizes he won't get more. It's been firmly established now, that he likes what he gets. More importantly, that I like doing it to him. I love talking about what I might do, teasing him about it. A tiny naughty story that forces him to silently admit it makes him hot.

   "You know, once I start preseason practice? There won't be a lot of fun in the shower. I'm going to be wiped out. You're going to have to put me to bed after. The season doesn't last forever though. I'll make it up to you when it ends. Once it starts snowing? Mommy will be all yours then."

   Fucking your new submissive in the ass, is quite common. It goes on in nearly any dominant submissive relationship. Its about like playing the national anthem before the big game starts. No national anthem? Probably not a big game. No forced anal? Probably not a dominant submissive relationship. I knew why this was, as soon as I saw how common it was in all the instructions. Once again, being raised a farm girl made me clued in. Just as I told my boyfriend before. People are mammals, and mammals fuck.

   Animals that have any social structure, usually have a pecking order. On a farm, you see what your parents call "playing leapfrog" when you're little. That doesn't last that long, and eventually you figure out the birds and the bees more or less on your own. Hey, you're watching and assisting with births to get you raised around it all.

   When you figure out that male animals are "playing leapfrog" after you know what mating is on any level, you ask. An adult has to explain to you that the animals are showing who's boss. Who's dominant. Who's the alpha. There's a pecking order, and they adjust it constantly to see who the top alpha is, who's next. On down the line it goes, to the last animal. That last one, never dominates any other animal in its pecking order, and any other can do it to them.

   Yes, male cows hump each other after pushing them around and cow tailing them. Yeah, most of it doesn't go anywhere, but… as a bored kid you get the right angle looking. It goes in the other male's ass sometimes. You see this across the animal kingdom, and in barnyards across America. If you have more than one dog, you can see it in your own home. Cats, goats, even fucking hamsters and mice will display this male on male domination ritual to establish superiority through humiliation and force.

   Viewed from that angle, its entirely normal in that sense, to see it being as common as drinking a glass of water in any dominant submissive driven sexual relationship. Your "herd" is two human animals. One is going to dominate the other, in a particularly sexual manner. That I'm demonstrating my sexual domination of him, and mounting him from behind and banging him in the ass by force is practically a requirement.

   The sexual submissive quickly gets used to the idea, and begins to first accept it. Then tolerate it. Then accept it. Finally they like it. Whether he actually likes it yet, or is merely trying to please me is immaterial. Its a strong signal that he's accepted the hierarchy of me being above him during sex. Its a strong signal that he has submitted completely to me. His submission to me now is very real to both of us.

   The only difference for me and him, is that in our case? I'm doing it to him instead of the more normal case of the other way around. Once I've broken that barrier, broken that ice, broken his little rear end in… the rest is a set path. When he abashedly asked me for it, no stronger signal could be given to me that his submission to me is complete.

   I was on top of him, pinning his hands above his head to the bed firmly. I was having fun kissing him super slutty, then teasing him about it. Pretending to come in for the next slutty kiss then stopping and pulling back, laughing. Then doing it suddenly and stopping. It turned me on to feel him squirm under me. The way he pretended to fight it, but not really.

   "Hey. You sure about asking me to bang you in the shower the way you asked for it?"

   "Pretty sure."

   "It was very sweet of you to ask me. Do you think you really want that again, or maybe you're just trying to please me. Tell me."

   "I definitely want you pleased."

   "Do you think you'll like it, or just like that you know you're making me happy by asking. There's no penalty for being truthful, there's no wrong answer. Don't be afraid."

   "I know I want to give myself to you. Will you like that?"

   "I will. Very much."

   "You'll make me like it. Just like… the first time you made me like it. On the table."

   I gave a look of mock concern. I'm being horribly naughty. Oh well. Strict mommy pops up out of nowhere.

   "Oh… you said, you wanted it like your no punishment. Just in the shower. That's what you asked mommy for, right?"

   "Um…"

   "What kind of answer is um, anyways, little slut? You know you're supposed to answer mommy when asked a question. Ten swats. Do I have to repeat my question…"

   I ran the buggy whip laying on the bed over him, more menacingly than when I was running it over him playing, just before strict mommy's appearance. He immediately caught the voice and the look, heard the ten swats and my threat about repeating myself. His eyes got concerned, his entire shy and embarrassed demeanor about asking for a painful and humiliating hard fuck and talking about it frankly and openly, shifted gears quickly, to damage control. He began to gush.

   "I'm sorry I didn't answer you… yes, that's what I asked for."

   "So. This is what I get, for taking a little while to play with you. Trying to be nice to you. I didn't hear you address me as mommy just now. Am I some whore you dragged home from the bar? I thought you were taught how to address your mommy. That's ten more. That's twenty. Again."

   "I'm sorry I didn't answer you, mommy. Yes, that's what I asked mommy for."

   I gave him the strict mommy look intently now, gazing down at him and watched his face melt. My voice got even more serious.

   "I thought we went over the whole sorry routine. How I don't like hearing it. You were told. That's ten more. Thirty. Explain what's wrong with sorry while you do it. Again."

   "I'm… I didn't answer mommy. I didn't answer mommy properly. Yes, that's what I asked mommy for. Sorry is what I am after being… punished. Not some magical word that makes what I did okay."

   "Better. But part of your whole training program? Is to take the shame out of you. We talk about things openly. We don't avoid talking about them. So. I'm adding ten more. That's forty total. One more time, and this time you tell mommy… exactly… what you asked for. Be explicit. Again."

   "I didn't answer mommy, then I didn't answer mommy properly. Sorry is what I am after being punished, not something I say to make doing it okay. Yes mommy. I asked for the no punishment again, but in the shower. My no punishment was… being fucked really hard."

   I sighed, and he studied my eyes and face for what was still wrong. I had him hanging on my every word. Delicious.

   "Just fucked hard, huh? I remember smacking your naked ass while I was fucking you hard for punishment. Ten more. We're up to fifty now. Make this the last time. Again."

   He went through it all again, and now added in that he got his naked ass smacked, while being fucked extra hard. He blushed from being made to talk about it frank and open.

   "Now. There's not a thing that just went on? That couldn't have been avoided. Is there. You know to answer me when I ask you a question. You know how to address me properly. I already explained to you, that I want to release you from the shame you feel from being my slut. How do you think it makes me feel, that you're ashamed of how you please me. Are you ashamed of having a strict mommy?"

   His eyes were all concern. He gushed about how he wasn't ashamed of me, how he never meant to make me feel bad by not talking about it directly. I let him go on for a while. I was interested if he was just trying to avoid extra punishment, or if he was simply trying extra hard to please me. I let his second wrist go, and supported myself over him. Staring into his eyes, studying his face. He begged, that it wasn't his intention to make me feel bad. I let him go on.

   His body language, his face and eyes, all indicated he was concerned. Nervous and afraid, but also concerned. There was no stipulated punishment for making me feel disappointed, yet that was what his begging concentrated on. How he didn't want to inadvertently make me feel bad. He wanted to run his hands over me, and he ever so slowly held his hands up while begging at length. Testing. Moving slowly, seeing if he got a look or a sharp word for moving to put his hands on my skin. I watched his hands, then his face. I let him go. His hands slowly found my wrists, and he practically winced when he made contact.

   He was feeling me out, if he was allowed to touch me. I stared at his hand on my wrist, and nodded. I softly told him to not dare to touch me anywhere sexy, not when I was correcting him. He thanked me softly and sweetly, blushing really bad, for being granted permission. He slowly moved his hands a little. Up my forearms, then back to my wrists. When he moved his hands again, it was further, then back again. Testing gently, making sure he was pleasing me.

   I gave him the stern look the whole time, while his hands slowly rubbed all over me. He carefully avoided my breasts and my pussy. I told him it was off limits, and he respected my instructions. He blushed something fierce the entire time. I finally spoke softly, but with soft strict mommy voice.

   "The problem here, is that you're backsliding. You're falling right back into bad behavior, that I'm trying to correct. You're supposed to be moving forward. Not taking one step forward, then one step back again. If I allow that, then what's the point. We can spend six weeks, going over the same things over and over again, and never get anywhere. I'm not having that. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

   He did.

   "Now. When I go to preseason camp? I'm not perfect, coming in from off season. I run laps for little bad habits that creep in. Otherwise, I'd let the team down if I was allowed to do that into the regular season. Do you want to let me down, let us down when your own preseason camp's over?"

   He didn't, and he gushed at the prospect of letting me down.

   "Now. You've built up some correction. I don't see you staying quiet, and standing still while being corrected, giving mommy fifty. That means, it will get repeated. You won't be able to stay quiet and stay still for that, any more than the first time. Which means, a trip to the basement. A trip to the basement, would be very bad for you now. The trip to the basement, would come after fifty, then fifty again. Then we put the long talk in the basement on top of it… that would be a very bad time for you."

   I could see the look pass over his face. I waited. I was definitely getting somewhere.

   "Ask mommy nice to keep you out of big basement trouble, while being corrected. Beg. If it sounds sincere enough, I'll think about it. Go."

   He ran his hands all over me, nervous gushing to beg me to keep him out of trouble while teaching him a lesson.

   "Not good enough. Explain to me, how you know you need corrected. Make it better."

   He did. I told him quietly with strict mommy face and demeanor, and tone of voice, that I would "think about it". Then I went back to just studying him. He thanked me over and over again, for thinking about it.

   "I said think about it. I still might choose to punish you. Which is a nice, long talk in the basement. Don't you ever think its automatic. You'll accept mommy's decision. My word is final. You need to understand that."

   "Whatever mommy decides."

   I studied his face and eyes. I was looking for signs of submission, and I was finding it. Good. I kept strict mommy up and running the show. I went to the foot of the bed. I snapped my fingers and pointed down, with a stern look. He came over and did his thing. Kissing my socks.

   "Stop that. And don't speak. Eyes down."

   "Now. You need to understand. I can obviously make you do anything I want. You need to understand why. When you wear your collar for me? It shows you have respect for me. Kneeling. It shows you have respect for your mommy. How you address me? The way you talk to me? Shows respect. If I have to keep correcting you on things you've already been taught, that doesn't seem like respect to me. Punishing you and making you do what I want, isn't enough. You aren't trying hard enough, and its obvious. Beating you to make you do what I want? Not good enough. You need to be trying. Seeing you do things you already know are wrong. Seriously now. I'm very disappointed with today's performance. Don't speak."

   "This was shit, what I just saw and heard. Admit it. You know you performed like shit, and you know better. Tell me. Now."

   He did.

   "Stay here. Don't speak, and don't move… It'll just be shit anyways… "

   I walked out of the room, covering my mouth as soon as I got out of the room. I honestly don't know how I keep a straight face for these performances, but its getting easier. Lightning in particular, was an athletic young girl. She has all the trappings of a young girl that showed speed and balance. I walked down to her room, and looked. Messy as all hell, yet the least messy of the three lazy whore's rooms. Standing up in the corner was her wide, flat snowboard. She likes to make ramps and go down hills in the winter when the snow is right, and get some speed and do tricks. Light grew up in flatland, a couple states away. We have rolling hills here, so her snowboard she picked up cheap from a graduating senior girl on our team was a great novelty for her to enjoy her first winter.

   I grabbed her snowboard and brought it back to my room.

   "All right, little boy. When a horse gets to the farm, and all they're good for is doing what they're told, and even then only when you're there standing over them? About all they're good for, is a work horse. Apparently, that's you right now. You want to be about as useful as a work horse? Fine. You get treated like one. Not a word out of you. Stand up and stay still. Let's go. Move it. Up!"

   I put the horse bit in his mouth, and put it under his tongue. I used one of the many thick leather straps to go behind his head, through both rings on the sides, and back to get belted in. I left a tiny bit of slack selecting the hole to buckle into, so he could just breathe. Then I tied a rope to each of the rings at the ends. Reins. I ran a rope through the heavy metal ring on his collar, and tied both ends to one of the solid posts at a corner of the bed. I had another longer rope coming back to me.

   "This is how you punish a bad horse. One that's being useless. Just like you."

   I blindfolded him last. Then I stood back, and pulled on the rope to his collar, tight. It stretched out the rope tying him to the corner post of the bed, and I stood back far out of harm's way of anything he could possibly do. I yanked on his reins and tugged tight, closing off his throat by lifting his tongue up by the bit, then let it go loose.

   "Feel that? That will keep you quiet, for every stroke you're about to get. It will keep you out of trouble, just like mommy promised you. You can feel how two tie points, attached to your collar, will keep you still enough to take your strokes. Once again? Mommy is being nice, and keeping you out of trouble. Now, you'll stay still for your strokes. I'm going to give you the buggy whip. All fifty hard strokes. This is how you punish a bad horse down the barn, for not listening. You deserve it, and you're about to get it…"

   "Now. If you think for one second, you're just going to stand there, while I correct you? You're sadly mistaken. You have blinders on, so you can learn to concentrate on my voice. Mommy's voice? Is where you're commands come from. I suggest you learn to listen carefully, to what comes out of my mouth."

   I tied the second collar tie point off, to a heavy desk leg. That held him still. I kept his reins in my hand, so I could yank back and snug the bit up, and cut off any noise.

   "You will not stand there doing nothing. After each stroke I keep you nice and quiet for? I'll release your bit. You'll repeat what you're being taught. Now listen up! The first ten strokes you receive, will be for not addressing mommy properly. You will say… thank you mommy, for teaching me how to address you properly. Each time. Now then. We'll begin…"

   I yanked back on his reins, cutting his air and ability to make noise off, and I gave him a nice, hard stroke with the buggy whip. I held it snug, then released it. He repeated what I told him to say. I then yanked the reins snug, gave him another really hard cut with the buggy whip, and released to let him repeat it again. We went through all ten hard strokes using this procedure.

   "We'll take a very short break, while you get ready for your next ten strokes. They'll get harder. You'll concentrate on my voice, you'll learn to listen to it. You're being disciplined, and you will learn from it."

   I gave him a short break, then explained quietly what the next ten were going to be for, and what he was to repeat after each one. I went through those ten hard buggy whip strokes.

   "Getting the idea, slut? You will listen to my voice, you will take commands from my voice. Now then…"

   I went through each of his ten strokes, and exactly what they were for in this strict manner. After a short break when his last ten were done, making fifty good buggy whip strokes in total, I told him he would now get ten more. These were for me being nice, and keeping him out of trouble by moving or making noise during polite correction. So, he was to thank me for correcting him nicely.

   It was so much fun, I couldn't stand it hardly. I felt my rush, and I got wet. I told him he would stand there, and I untied the second tie off rope to his collar. Then I used the really rough rope I had bought, and created a kind of harness. A loop of rough rope formed a big "X", and I clipped a carabiner to the center of the "X" at his back, and tied a rope going back to the base of the front boot of Lightning's snowboard. Once I was done, I untied his rope from the bedpost leg to his collar, and untied it from his collar.

   "Now? You're an all but useless work horse. All that you're good for? Is pulling me around. We'll teach you how."

   I stood on the wide, flat snowboard with my feet next to the boots, because I'd never fit in them anyways. Not correctly. I could break my ankles. I got my stance, and I yanked back on his reins. Hard. I gave him a nice, hard cut with the buggy whip and said "Pull!". Blindfolded, he strained and got me moving. When he got to the far wall, I cracked him with the buggy whip again, and announced "Stop!", as I yanked back on the reins hard.

   "Pretty easy. Even a useless work horse like you can handle it. Now. Listen to my voice, slut, and listen real good. When I do this…"

   I yanked the left rope rein, fairly hard.

   "You go that way… and… when you feel this?"

   I now pulled the right one, equally hard.

   "You go that way. Not fucking rocket science. Now. You're at the wall… turn around…"

   I yanked the left rein rope, cutting his air off, until he had pulled me back around. I didn't release him for air until he had completed his turn. When I released the bit and he could breathe, he gasped for air.

   I gave him a vicious cut with the buggy whip, and announced "Pull!", then a short time later, another whip crack and "Stop!".

   "Not bad, slut. Now, concentrate on my voice. When I tug gently, like this…"

   I gave a light tug on the right rein, and the tug on his bit could be felt.

   "You go a little that way. Same for the other way. But when I pull hard…"

   And I did it, nice and hard for several seconds before releasing it to let him gasp air again.

   "That's the command to turn around. You will turn around in that direction, and you will not get let go, until you have turned me around enough. Just listen to my voice, take the commands. Nothing else matters in your world. Only my voice."

   I gave him another sharp cut with the buggy whip.

   "You will obey my commands."

   A hard one.

   "You will learn to concentrate on my voice."

   Another one.

   "You have blinders on, so you listen only to my voice, and will not get scared or distracted."

   Yet another.

   "You will trust me, to keep you safe. Obey my voice, obey my commands. Or you will go down the steps."

   A particularly vicious cut with the buggy whip again.

   "You learn to obey my voice? You'll get less of the whip. You make mistakes though…"

   I gave a series of fast, hard strokes while yanking back on the bit rein ropes, whipping him mercilessly, before releasing him to breathe.

   "Now. Let's begin…"

   I cracked his ass with the buggy whip, and had him walk me down the hallway. Past the bathroom, to Lightning's room. I tugged hard, and turned him around. He pulled me back down the hallway and into my room. I tugged him left, and guided him around the foot of the bed. Then I turned him around, and we went back. I did this innumerable times in a row. Why? It was fun, just pure and simple fun.

   I have no idea how long I did this with him, it was too much fun and a real rush. I actually got into it, and took training him seriously.

   "Concentrate on only my voice…"

   "Stop. You don't pull at one speed. I yell pull, you start out faster. I whisper pull, you creep. Lets work on that…"

   "Now. You hear me say pull more? You start going faster. You feel this…"

   I gave the super gentle touches back on his reins both at once.

   "…that? Is slow down, but don't stop. Again… pull…"

   I worked with him for quite a while at this, and got a good bit of control over him. When I had speed control and turning control both down pat, I put something in the middle of the floor in Lightning's room and we practiced going down, and I turned him around it. When he knocked it over one time too many though… I roped his collar to the foot of her closest bedpost, and whipped him mercilessly with the buggy whip.

   "That was bad!"

   "Bad horsie!"

   "You're not concentrating on my voice!"

   "Bad!"

   "You're not feeling the strength of my turns correctly! Get it right!"

   "You wanna be a naughty horseie? This is what naughty horsies get! Bad!"

   I tugged his reins back hard, to cut off any cry with every stroke. I finished off with a long series of buggy whip cracks, before releasing him to gasp for air. Then I untied him from his "whipping post" in her room, and we went back to it.

   "We'll try it again. Pull…"

   I worked with him, until he had it all working. He could go down the hallway smoothly, and I could turn him around the object and back out and down the hallway. Back down into my room, turn at the foot of the bed. Back again.

   When I finally had to pee, I whispered pull and gentle tugs, to maneuver him to pull me into the bathroom and stopped him just at the toilet. I sat down and gave my little pee. I put my stocking foot to his face, and got kisses there.

   "You're starting to be a good horsie. You concentrate on my voice, and learn to react to my commands, my voice, my instructions with the reins… it starts to work well. Hmm. You're probably thirsty. Lets get you a drink…"

   I stood up after my short pee, I didn't hardly have to go at all, I was just seeing if I could maneuver him with gentle commands around a new obstacle bringing me in.

   "Horsie? Drink."

   I sighed.

   "Horsies do what they're commanded to do. Mommy's voice tells you to drink? You drink…"

   I cut across his ass with a hard buggy whip shot. Then another, until he stuck his head down into the bowl I had lifted the seat up on for his "drink".

   It had been fresh water in the bowl, and I had honestly only taken a tiny couple squirts. I made him drink out of the bowl that I had just peed into the water.

   We got turned around, and back out and did it all for a while more. Then, I led him back in. This time, he drank when commanded to. We went back out and worked some more, then I had him pull me back into our bedroom. I had him do turns in place, both directions. Then I parked him at the foot of the bed, with whispered "pull" instructions, until he was right at the foot of the bed. I told him to stay, and I got his harness off of him.

   "Kneel. Face where it belongs."

   "Now. This wasn't punishment. This? Was training. You see how much we can do, when you learn a few commands, and you concentrate on just my voice? You obey my voice, you obey my commands, we can get things done. Mommy? Is a tiny bit happier with you. You did pretty well for your first time. We'll work on it more often. We can do some work just here in my room, but I'm going to take you out somewhere, and exercise you. See what you've learned, see how you perform. Now. Is there something you want to tell mommy? Now is the time."

   He thanked me for teaching him how to be a good horsie.

   "You finally learned to be a good boy. Keep it up. This lesson was all about concentrating on my voice? And following my commands. Don't forget it, and you can begin to impress me, that I'm not wasting my time."

   "Now. We're going to keep the blindfold on, keep you concentrating on just my voice. Responding to my commands. Lets take you for a walk…"

   I walked him all over the house, room to room and back again. Made him heel up, do tricks, the works. Living room, kitchen, back upstairs, in my room and Lightning's room both. I walked him around his object, and told him he was a good boy for navigating it properly without knocking it over. I still had the buggy whip with me, but rarely had to use it. I walked him back into the bathroom, and this time when commanded to "drink", he did it easily.

   "Humiliating, isn't it? Being made to drink mommy's pee. That's what you get, for not respecting me enough to listen to me, and obey me. You don't like it? Don't backslide on my training again. Or you'll get nothing else to drink. Are we clear?"

   "Yes mommy."

   "All right. You're learning, I think. Let's walk back into my room… come on, heel up. You know the way…"

   "Kneel. Stay."

   I took his blindfold off finally.

   "Now take mommy's socks off. Mommy wants to play with you some."

   I threw my socks around, and we played fetch, did tricks, played more fetch. I rubbed his head, and was continually amazed that I truly enjoyed this.

   "Now. Mommy wants a treat. Does the little boy want a treat too? A treat that doesn't come out of the toilet bowl."

   He did, go figure.

   "Stay…"

   He kissed my ankles and stayed kneeling, quite obediently. I went and got the half gallon of brandy and a clean little juice glass we used for it. Then I went and got the baggie of pot I had pinched out of lazy whore number three's gigantic pot dealer's stash.

   "Now. You, have been a good little boy long enough, mommy is going to trust you. You have my permission, only this time because I said so… to go and get the little red bong mommy likes. Its in lazy whore number three's room. Be careful of used condoms…"

   "Good boy. Now. What happens if you go into any of the girl's rooms without my permission. Say it."

   "Mommy takes me down the basement."

   "And what happens to you down in the basement for that. Say it."

   "Mommy will… whip the skin off my ass."

   "And don't forget that."

   I poured us some brandy, and drank my couple fingers. Then I poured him some. When I held it out for him, and he reached for it. I smacked his hand and said "no!".

   He held his mouth open for me to feed it to him.

   "Now. Go get us a big glass of ice. All ice. Shoo…"

   When he came back, I filled the little bong up with ice. I packed up a nicely filled bowl, and did mine. I held it out for him, and retracted when he reached for it. He obediently held his mouth forwards, kneeling at my feet. I lit it for him. We both had another little snort of brandy, then each had another bong rip.

   I draped my knees over his shoulders, and did slutty kissing.

   "Next time you pull me around. You can impress me by showing me you learned how to do it. Then? You won't get as much buggy whip. Might be more fun for you, without being whipped, don't you think?"

   He agreed. I checked my phone for weather.

   "Hmm. Gonna rain real bad. Little early for the shower. I was kinda wanting to maybe take you for a walk. On the trails. My plan was to walk you blindfolded, get you to trust me leading you around. Build trust. I wish we had more privacy, I'd walk you around naked on trails, little boy. Maybe tie you to a tree somewhere, and use you."

   After slutty kissing, and I'm sure the bong hits didn't hurt any… I wanted a snack. He agreed, so we went down and I had him make me some food. The rain came, and stayed. We ate in the living room, killing time. Watched some TV, slutty kissing. Games of naked fetch. Then I had an idea.

   "You. Do you want mommy to have fun?"

   He did.

   "The rain ain't quitting, and its getting dark out. I'm gonna have some fun with you, little boy…"

   I walked him back upstairs. We did several bong rips each, and downed a good glass each of brandy. I told him I wanted him buzzed up right along with me. I had him get dressed, and had him wear my old soccer spikes he practiced with me in. My practice shorts and a practice T shirt. I sent him to get some clean towels and leave them by the door for when we got back, and to wait for me at the door. I packed my little beach bag, and grabbed the snowboard. He looked at me like I was from Mars, and I laughed.

   "Come on. Little water never hurt a horse any. You wanna make me happy, or not?"

   He did.

   "Then move it… I got the bag, you carry the board. Shoo."

   As soon as we were out of sight of the townhouses, I blindfolded him. I led him by the hand, and walked him to the woods line out back and we followed it. When I got to the trails, I stopped him. Strict mommy voice, to get him moving.

   "Strip. Leave my spikes and practice socks on. The rest? Off."

   All he had to strip off was my practice shorts and my T shirt. I had him hold them out, and drop them in a plastic shopping bag I tied shut and wrapped up and interred into my little beach bag. I got his rough rope "X" harness on him, and clicked on the carabiner to the snowboard, which was now going to be a mud-board. I set up his bit, checking he had a little more breathing room than last time in the house. I was going to exert him, and he'd need more air. I got on the board, got situated in a slight crouch I had picked up quick and hauled back on his "reins". He was without air while I quickly gave him instructions.

   "Just concentrate on my voice. We'll be fine, if you just follow commands like in the house."

   I yanked hard and hissed ominously.

   "Don't make me put the whip to you. You know I will, if I have to. I'll tie your collar to any two trees I see, and give it to you good… do not test me."

   I surprised myself, with my venomous warning. But, I was flying high, had some brandy in me as well, and I was awash in a new rush like I'd never felt. I let him breathe some and get ready after my warning, then decided it was time. I gave a low "pull", which he knew was the very slow walking, and then a little "pull… pull…" to get the walking pace where I wanted it. I gently steered him with a rein onto the trail, and had him walk me around the trails.

   Christ was my twat getting wet. I had a trained submissive human horse, hitched up to my board I rode, and was watching him walk me naked on the trails. I started laughing and couldn't quit. I didn't have to put the buggy whip to him once, although a few times just for fun to watch him jump, laughing at his reaction. I told him to be good, and I gave him a lurid description of tying his collar between two trees, and whipping the hell out of him. Reminding him it would get him nowhere, except doing exactly what he was doing now, save for doing it with a well whipped and wet naked ass.

   When we finally got where I wanted to be, I spun him in a hard circle twice then stopped him, and got off my board.

   "Not bad. Not bad at all. Now… we're gonna take a little break."

   I had put his little LED work light I'd seen him use on his head, to let me navigate the trails. This was too much fun.

   "You're doing fine. Now. I don't think I ever had you up in the meadow up top of the hill behind the woods and the trails. We're going to walk a trail in the tall grass slowly a few times. To give me a path. Then? I'm gonna put the whip to you, and run your naked ass till you drop. Let's have a drink to celebrate making it through the trails…"

   I had a glass of the brandy, and made him drink one as well.

   "Get ready, little boy. Here we go…"

   I spun him around once, then I set off.

   "Pull… pull, pull… good boy… right there…"

   I had him walk the length of the meadow. There were a few large trees at both ends and in from the sides, and I selected one at the far end with good clearance around it. I walked him around it, tugging gently, then back up the length again to the other end. I selected the closest tree with clearance, and tugged gently around it. Back down and around this course several times walking. I had a path walked down in the tall wet grass. Then I started increasing speed.

   "Pull! Pull!"

   I cracked his ass with the buggy whip and laughed like a mad woman, which of course I might well be at this point, though I told myself it was just the brandy and the bong hits. I got him running, and kept him running. Any slight let up in his speed, brought a series of "Pull! Pull! Pull!" and hard buggy whip strokes that cut across his naked wet ass.

   I haven't had this much fun in years. If he tried to slow down from what I found his top speed was? You already know what happened to him and his ass. It took a while, but I finally managed to run him out. No amount of yelling "Pull!", and no number of buggy whip strokes got me anywhere, so I kept him moving as best I could until he was honestly just about to drop. I have no idea how long that took, but it was a while. Seemed like well over an hour. It was huge fun once I got the trail walked down and started getting him moving. The straightaways both sides up and down the meadow were fine, but cutting around the trees was the best. Gently tugging the reins to turn him.

   I stopped every once in a while, had a belt of brandy and made him have one too. Then went back to it. When I had him obviously played out, he was exhausted. I trotted him back to the trail we emerged here from, and gave him a short break. Then, I had him walk slowly through the trails again, and back to where we started.

   "Here. Put your shorts and shirt back on. You were a good boy, by the way. Mommy's proud of you."

   I got his harness and bit and reins off, and stowed everything in the bag. I walked him back blindfolded, carrying the board, then took it off when we got close on the tree line to head down to our townhouse. From the moment after I blindfolded him? I had put on Lightning's little action camera. Waterproof, shockproof, everything proof. Its for capturing video of her snowboarding or any other stuff she gets to do. I know how to use it, she's showed me how before and doesn't mind if I borrow it. I took it off, the instant before I took his blindfold back off. I had a high res movie of the whole thing. During little breaks for gulps of brandy? I would turn his head light on or off. That made for night vision clips of me making my rounds.

   I had stopped and clipped it to a tree twice. Once at a turning tree, to capture me coming around. Thought it would maybe be a great shot, who ever knows till you see it. Another time from the side of the meadow's edge. So I could see me coming past at full tilt, giving him the buggy whip as I went past. I have sound and everything. I'll be able to hear the "Pull! Pull!" and the cracks of the buggy whip on his ass. My threats to him that he would get tied between two trees and whipped good, I had it all.

   "All right, little boy. You can see why I had towels inside the door. Strip on your towel laid down…"

   I did the same. When he went to take my towel and rush to dry me, I stopped him. I ordered him to simply "stay". When I was done toweling off, I toweled him off slowly and carefully.

   "You were a good horsie for mommy tonight. I have to take care of my horse, or I don't deserve to have one…"

   He's definitely not used to getting toweled off, such is always reserved for me. I bundled up all our wet clothes and towels into the two towels we had stood on, and told him gently to put them in the washer, but not to bother starting it yet. Our shower time would generate a few towels and washrags, so it could wait. When he got back, I sat him down in the kitchen, and asked him if he was hungry after being ridden so hard. He was again amazed I offered to cook for us. Another treat. While I was cooking for him. Naked mind you, with him sitting there in his birthday suit as well, I idly spoke.

   "As you can see, you made mommy happy. I haven't had that much fun in a couple years, I don't think. Don't get too used to this treatment, but… when you're a good boy? Good things can happen."

   I served him his meal, and mine. We sat and ate. I told him he was entitled to some normal time for the duration of the meal, so he could drop the mommy for now. I insisted on a frank talk about what we had been doing, and also just went and done. I discouraged him using euphemisms when describing things. This is about getting him over the natural shyness and shame of being so submissive to me. Every time we talk openly about things we do, he gets a little less shy about it. This way, when our time at this is over? We will by then be having very explicit conversations, jokes, etc. Openly. Any off the wall thing one of us wants to try, it will be no trouble at all to bring it up and discuss it.

   In the relationship from day one, I'm dominant. I have a natural tendency with my partner, to speak directly about things. Not beat around the bush. As a submissive relationship partner, his natural inclinations are to make references, bring things up gently. Use euphemisms to refer to things. Its like an English class sometimes talking to him. He's one of those intellectuals that doesn't have to force it or try, to use his extensive vocabulary. He can very naturally speak in metaphors and similes. This allows him to tap dance verbally, and slowly bring things up gently and politely.

   His extensive and easy use of metaphors and simile, makes him great at being a mathematics and comp sci tutor. It allows him to find an analogy a jock will "get" easily, and turn it into a way to view the difficult mathematical concept or computer concept he's trying to explain. Once they "get" it, his job is 90 percent done. Now they can make use of everything else the professor is talking about.

   I like it when he does all this, I'm just breaking him of it for talking about our sex life. I talk dirty in bed, always have and always will. The stuff that comes out of my mouth is somewhat priceless. I find it amazingly cute how easy he blushes when I do it, in or out of bed. Its just that as we get farther down our kinky road, open and direct conversations will be easier. I'd rather he simply tells me something when our little training program is over, rather than hint or just deal with it instead of having us talk about it.

   I even cleared the table and rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher for him. I smiled at him to let him know it was part of this short little treat. I got us two more cold cans to wash dinner down.

   "So. I wanna have a little talk. Hey, hey… not that kind of talk. This talk won't hurt."

   He asked what about.

   "We're getting near shower time, hun. I just… wanted to talk about it first, that's all."

   "What about it…"

   "I think you're trying to make me happy and impress me, by asking for it that rough again, for shower fun. Lord knows you don't mind it rough, and I don't mind giving it to you that way."

   "I want to please you. That's the best way."

   "It is, it is… that was a really rough no punishment. Its very sweet of you, but… are you sure you wouldn't want a… slightly lighter version of it? When I tell you what we're going to do, you don't have a choice. But, when you ask? You have a choice what you ask for. Are you sure you want it that rough? I honestly didn't plan on you asking for anything quite that rough, until later on after I'd… broken you in some more on it, if you know where I'm coming from here."

   "You don't want to?"

   "Oh… I'm going to fucking love it. Tell you what I'll do."

   "Okay."

   "I'll concentrate on fucking you. You had discipline today and tonight, and I'd like to focus on just that. But… my decision is final, and I want to change the original around some. To make it more fun for me. I'm used to hearing you scream in the basement, it'll be a kick for me to hear it in the shower for a change. So, don't be too surprised when its a little different. Just figured I'd warn you of… changes I was going to make. Not that you'll be in any position to refuse me whatever I feel like anyways. That never changes."

   "Anything, if it makes you happier."

   "Oh, it will. A big part of this, is me making myself happy. Any way I want to."

   "Anything you want, just tell me."

   "Okay… I'm going to describe what I want…"

   I spent the next half hour talking with him over cold drinks on ice, describing what I had in mind. Sure, I can just make him do whatever I want. But for this? I wanted him on board. He agreed it would be extra hot. Eventually, I led him upstairs.