Tea and Spoons
“Undo your belt buckle, please”
Jon gets goosebumps and gives a little smile. He doesn’t mean to, it just happens. He’s nervous and embarrassed and feeling ever so slightly scared. He releases the belt buckle and starts to pull it through the loops of his jeans.
“Stop! Did I say take the belt off? No. I give precise instructions. Do not deviate from them or things will not go well for you. Do you understand?”
Jon nods. Charlotte accepts his acquiesance with a smile.
“Very well, Jon, undo your jeans and drop them to the floor.”
The man does as he is told. Something he can’t explain makes him cover his cock with his hands, even though he is wearing jockey shorts, and even though she has seen and sucked and fucked it. He starts to realize that he has totally underestimated her. His cock twitches at the thought just as his brain screams for him to run, to beg, to say sorry.
Charlotte stands up and walks around him. She looks him up and down. Every so often she kneels down and stares at his legs, casually running a finger along the inside of his thigh. He turned around once to look at her, she didn’t even speak then, she made the same sound you might make when stopping a dog eat food from your plate, a gutteral “ach, ach” sound. He did as she commanded, humiliated that such a simple sound could make him submit. The inspection seemed to last forever before Charlotte sat back down on the chair, her methodical skirt arrangement exactly like before.
“Come here Jon. Keep your jeans as they are.” Jon hobbles over to Charlotte. He needs to pee but says nothing. This will be over soon. Charlotte isn’t very strong, he can always just stand up and go to the loo. No worries ... he ignores the niggling doubt at the back of his mind.
Charlotte pats her lap.
Jon mentally screams and runs and shouts to not be so fucking ridiculous. But he feels himself bending over. His toes and fingers barely touch the ground. He tries to keep his head held up in defiance, but it is too awkward to stay like that. His cock brushes against Charlotte’s thigh and Jon feels shame as it stiffens knowing she will feel it.
He feels Charlotte grab his arse through his shorts. She kneeds it and tugs it and pulls it. She gently taps it. He feels her hand slip into the shorts and squeeze his arse. His cock gets hard. Jon feels Charlotte slide the shorts just over his butt cheeks. The cool air reminds him he needs to pee until THWACK. He flinches and twitches.
THWACK, another smack lands on his butt
“Ok, that’s enough. Charlotte, really.”
It wasn’t that it hurt, the smacks just stung a little. It was more that this wasn’t how they were meant to be. Charlotte did what he said. Jon hurt and humiliated Charlotte. It wasn’t meant to work this way. Charlotte’s smacks were certainly not supposed to sting. She’s so small and weak and ... THWACK
The anger and humiliation grows as she ignores him. She doesn’t say a word. All he can hear is the sound of her hand landing on his arse and her breathing getting heavier.
“Charlotte, I need to piss, please stop.”
“Very well, Jon, stand up.”
Jon is confused at this, just like that? Maybe he was right, maybe she really is that weak. He really is her boss. He laughs a little too loudly.
“Jon, go to the sink and pick up the mug I left in there.” He looks at her, his face falls, and turns ashen white. Realization sinks in. She isn’t playing. She isn’t his toy to do what he wants with. She is taking what is hers, and somewhere Jon knows he deserves it. He does what he is told. He picks up the mug, knowing what is coming.
“You may piss in that.”
His heart thumps. Excitement and disgust course through him in equal measure. He holds the mug in one hand and his cock in the other. He looks down at himself, standing in the kitchen his jeans around his ankles, his shorts just below his butt cheeks. He looks pathetic. He wonders if his butt cheeks are red. When the piss comes it is a humiliating but blessed relief until he realizes the mug isn’t big enough. He looks at Charlotte, his eyes wide showing panic and shame but also a challenge. He doesn’t know if he is challenging himself or her. She nods at him and moves her hand indicating he should continue.
“I can’t, it’s going to spill out, on the floor, my kitchen floor, I live here, with Jemima, that prim lady you met. I can’t do this.”
“You can and you will.” Charlotte stands up and moves to the door to watch from a distance.
His stomach churns as he feels the warmth of his piss flow out of the mug and over his hand. It cascades to the floor. It falls on his jeans. By the time he finishes he is standing in a pool of his own piss.
“What a good boy, that wasn’t so difficult was it? Now, take the mug to the fridge and put it on a shelf, any shelf will do.”
Part of him feels trapped in a glass cage, his mind screaming for him not to do it. He does it all the same. As he hobbles to the fridge he drags the piss on the floor with him. The mug is dripping with piss but he puts it on a shelf. He shuts the door and tries not to think about it.
“Oh, well done. You get a gold star for that. Take off your jeans, leave them there and kneel on the floor.”
He does as he is told. He doesn’t know why.
“Crawl to me. As you do so, I want you to lick the floor clean. Lick your piss off the floor.”
Jon’s face contorts into revulsion. He feels shame so great he never imagined it possible. He looks at the woman in the door and feels awe and hatred and lust. He crawls towards her, his knees and hands covered in piss. He licks the floor, tasting his own piss and whatever other shit falls on kitchen floors. When he reaches Charlotte he looks up.
Somehow, somewhere, out of nowhere, she is holding a thick wooden paddle.
Part Three will be up on the 29th December