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Tea and Spoons
Part Two
“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
And another
And another
And another
It stings.
“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
“Charlotte!”
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.
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Part Three will be up on the 29th December
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