‘Right, you worthless maggot, get that fucking kitchen cleaned,’ I say, getting into role.
‘Yes miss,’ says Pete. ‘Right away.’
‘But bring me a coffee first, and biscuits. I’m hungry and I’d like a nice biscuit.’
‘Of course miss,’ says Pete. ‘Coming right up.’ Pete tootles off into the kitchen and I park my arse on the sofa and get my phone out.
Time to check Twitter while I wait.
I feel much better this time than I did last time I was here at Pete’s. I still have severe attacks of guilt about that, and rightly so. It’s not everyday you almost make someone injure themselves as a result of being angry yourself.
But today isn’t like that, thankfully.
As I say, I’m feeling better.
And perhaps more importantly, I remember what Pete said to me before I left last time… I remember what he asked for. I figure I owe him. And I figure there’s no time like the present to start paying him back.
‘WHERE’S MY FUCKING COFFEE?’
‘Coming miss,’ he calls back from the kitchen.
I hear the kettle boil and know he won’t be long. On Twitter I retweet some posts – BigTick’s , Miss Blackwood’s, Erotic Fiction’s, CJ’s and a few others.
What can I write that’s witty?
Oh, I know.
– When you’re self employed and you realise your boss is still a dick!
That might get a few likes.
Pete walks in carrying a mug of coffee and a packet of Rich Tea biscuits.
Rich Fucking Tea!
‘What the hell do you call those?’ I ask, pointing at the biscuits.
‘Rich Tea,’ he says.
‘What fucking good are those for dunking in a cup of coffee! They’re bland, and can’t stand up to a dunking without falling apart and crashing into your drink. Go and get me something else, Choc Digestives, Hob Nobs, or Custard Crèmes or something.’
Pete puts the coffee down on the table in front of me. ‘I don’t have anything else,’ he says, his head hung low. ‘Sorry.’
‘Well, isn’t that disappointing,’ I say. ‘I’m afraid there’s going to have to be a punishment.’
‘Punishment,’ says Pete. A gleeful look flashes across his face.
‘Yup, take your top off,’ I say.
Pete dutifully obliges and I’m taken by surprise. Yes he has a bit of a Michelin tyre midriff, but he carries it well. His shoulders are naturally broad and square, which I like in a man; it gives his overall physique a more bulky appearance. I imagine if he motivated himself to exercise he could have a cracking body.
Anyway, I’m going off track. Pete takes his top off. You might recall his request from our last encounter. Consequently I did some research into being a dom for his more sub tendencies. When I arrived today I thanked him for being so gracious the last time I saw him. I also gave him a couple of safe words to use today, just in case he felt he needed them. He‘d looked really excited. I didn’t tell him anything else because that would ruin the surprise, and I certainly didn’t tell him about the couple of toys I’d secreted into his flat in the inside pockets of my jacket.
There’s no need to ruin the surprise.
‘What are you stood there looking like a lemon for? Carry on, and leave the shirt here.’
‘Yes miss,’ he says and heads back into the kitchen.
I’ll give him 15 minutes then go and inspect his progress.
It’s funny how I’ve ended up in this position – right now, here I am sat on one of my customer’s sofas, drinking coffee while he cleans his flat instead of me, and he even pays me for the privilege. It strikes me as funny how I’ve ended up in this position. In fact I always seem to find myself in strange situations and positions, like taking impromptu helicopter flights to Glasgow, being a life model, being eye candy dressed as a French Maid for an old trooper, and so on. I’m aware that there’s always a progression from the first meet to the point where we’re more intimately acquainted, but the way that progression happens also strikes me as peculiar sometimes, like this one with Pete where I nearly injure the guy only for him to tell me he quite liked it. Pete’s kink was bound to alter the usual way of things.
Don’t misunderstand me, I know that I’m very instigatory in the way my relationships progress, in that my flirty nature does most of the work for me; nevertheless, I only flirt with people I actually like, and I like Pete. Pete is kind and sweet and has an air of vulnerability about him; whereas at the moment the jury is still out with New Customer John – I can’t imagine myself ever being flirty with him, even if he didn’t have a girlfriend. Having said that, I also know that my opinion can change, as it has done in the past; I didn’t particularly like Jim when I first met him – I thought he was one of those cocky, arrogant, sports guys who are all too aware of how fit they are, and full of themselves as a consequence – but he turned out to be a real sweetie – plus, he’s got a huge cock!
I calculate that around 15 minutes has passed.
‘How are you getting on in there?’
‘Very well miss,’ comes Pete’s answer.
I do like the ‘miss’ thing he does.
I never wanted to be a ‘mistress’ and take the dom thing to an extreme, however I am quite happy to play the ‘miss’ role for Pete. Calling me ‘miss’ is Pete’s thing and not something I instigated or insisted on. It’ll do, for now.
‘I’m coming to inspect your work,’ I call out.
‘Very good miss, whenever you’re ready.’
Let’s keep him hanging for a few minutes.
My mug is still quite full so I take a swig. It’s luke warm, an ideal temperature for what I’ve got in mind, but I also need one of the toys I brought with me, so I pop into the hallway to retrieve it, slipping it into the back pocket of my cargo slacks so it’s out of sight.
Okay, let’s see how he’s doing.
I give myself a shake and settle into stroppy miss mode.
Here we go…
I march through the lounge and shove the kitchen door open. It clatters against the wall with a bang. He steps away from the work surface he was cleaning.
‘There you go miss,’ he says, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.
‘It’s time for some training,’ I say.
‘Yes. I want you to adopt a position for me when I inspect your work.’
‘What kind of position?’
‘We’re about to find out,’ I say with a wicked grin. ‘But this isn’t it.’ I point and gesture the way he’s stood facing me. ‘Turn round and bend over.’
He does as he is told and I remove the leather paddle hidden from view in my pocket. ‘Each time you get the position wrong you will be punished. Understand?’
With a trace of eagerness in his voice he says ‘oh yes miss.’
I raise the paddle, almost to shoulder level and swing it to a resounding slap against his arse covered jeans. He jumps with shock and looks round, startled.
‘Did I say you could look round?’
‘No miss, sorry, terribly sorry,’ he says turning quickly away.
I raise the paddle again.
He flinches. Once more.
Another flinch but not as strong.
‘Now, you’ll get three strikes each time you get the inspection position wrong. Is that clear?’
‘And seeing as you looked round, here’s a fourth.’ I say raising the paddle.
‘Right. I’m going to leave the room. When I tell you I’m coming to inspect your work you will adopt a posture you consider appropriate for my inspection. Understand?’
‘You will receive three punishments for every posture I’m not satisfied with. Is that clear?’
‘Good, let’s give this a try,’ I say marching out of the kitchen. I wait a few seconds, announce my imminent inspection and march in.
Basically all Pete did was remain bent over and turn a little so his hands were placed on the work surface. He looks like he’s been told to put his hands on the side of a car by a copper, and spread ‘em.
‘Is that it?’ I say laughing hysterically. ‘Rubbish.’
I raise the paddle.
He barely flinches. Either my strikes have got softer, or he’s getting used to it.
‘Oh, this won’t do,’ I say.
‘Miss?’ He says, making sure to not look round at me this time.
‘I think the punishment needs to be more severe.’
‘Miss?’ He says again.
I pocket the paddle and walk round behind him, reach round his waist, unbutton his jeans and push them to the floor.
He’s wearing a pair of Doctor Who boxer shorts and I nearly burst out laughing when I see them. He must have heard me stifling my mirth.
‘Miss, is everything alright?’
‘Shush maggot,’ I say and raise the paddle.
The sound is much more satisfying, much more intense without the heavy denim to stifle the impact. He flinches.
I raise the paddle for the final time.
Another satisfying smack and another flinch.
He’s going to be red raw at this rate.
But, he knows the safe words.
‘I’m going to leave the room and we’ll try this again,’ I say. ‘I shall give you a few more moments to come up with something more appropriate.’
‘If I’m not satisfied I’ll tell you to assume the position. Understand?’
‘The position miss?’
‘How you are right now – that’s the position. Got it?’
With that I march out of the kitchen once more. I keep the paddle in my hand, it feels good…powerful.
I’m starting to like this game and much to my surprise I find it really enjoyable, and fun. Pete’s not complaining, nor has he used either of the safe words, so I’m guessing he’s finding it at the very least acceptable, and at best he’s secretly enjoying himself.
‘Right maggot, it’s inspection time,’ and into the kitchen I go.
This time he’s opted for an upright position, head bowed forward, hands clasped together at thigh level.
I like the clasped hands.
‘Assume the position,’ I say.
‘Yes miss, sorry miss,’ says Pete adopting the spread eagle position again. I raise the paddle.
He flinches. My heart is fluttering with the excitement of spanking Pete. And whilst I’m cautious of getting carried away, especially after what happened last time, I feel the need to take this a step further. Besides, I can’t look at those damn boxers on a grown man without getting the urge to laugh.
‘No, this still won’t do,’ I say.
I hook those damn boxers with my thumbs and hoist them down but they get stuck and as I tug he buckles a little at the knees.
‘I’m sorry miss,’ he says.
‘Sorry for what?’ I ask, looking round his waist to find what’s catching on his boxers.
He’s got a massive boner.
I feel satisfied that my question is answered as to whether or not he’s enjoying this!
‘You filthy little fucker,’ I say, staying in character, which didn’t take much doing considering how impressed I was with his resilience to pain.
I stretch the elastic waistband of his boxers out over his erection, finally getting them to the floor.
‘Step out of them.’
He does as he’s told.
‘You really are a filthy little fucker aren’t you!’ I say, with a grin that Pete can’t see.
‘I’m sorry miss.’
I stand sideways on to him and up close so I can reach my left hand under his hips. I grasp his hard cock and Pete’s legs shudder and simultaneously his cock pulses in my hand, getting harder. Keeping hold of his cock I raise the paddle with my other hand.
As he flinches his hips push his cock forward and backward my hand, basically giving him a little wank. A little moan of pleasure leaks out of his mouth.
‘Did you fucking enjoy that?’ I demand.
‘No miss sorry miss,’ he says quickly.
‘You did didn’t you, you filthy fucker!’
‘No miss sorry miss,’ he repeats.
I raise the paddle again.
Flinch, leg shudder, cock throb, but no moan. I can tell he’s stifling it.
‘That’s better,’ I say. ‘Right, let’s try this once more.’ I march out of the kitchen again.
I could play this game all day. I fucking love it!
I might have to explore this female dom kinky mistress thing further, because I am really getting off on the feeling of control – it’s exhilarating. I’m also surprised that I find it stimulating I can feel my arousal having an effect in my panties.
‘Are you ready in there?’
‘Good, because here I come.’
My excitement makes me charge into the kitchen.
Steady on Carla, steady on.
Pete is on his knees, head bowed, hands clasped in a praying position.
‘You’re getting warmer. I like you being on your knees and the clasped hands thing, but it’s still not right. Assume the position.’
Pete clambers to his feet, I glimpse his penis as he rises and notice it’s still pretty hard. He places his hands on the work surface. His arse is bright red having had chance for the blood to come to the surface – it gives me a twinge of guilt.
‘Are you ready, maggot?’
Well, he didn’t say no so I assume he’s still okay with it.
And his cock is still hard.
I reach underneath him again and grab his shaft. He’s certainly not in Jim’s league in terms of length and girth, however he’s got nothing to be ashamed of. At the best he’s a little less than average in length, about 5 inches but girthy nevertheless. It feels chunky in my hand, and it gets harder as I grasp it. He lets out a little gasp.
‘Did you say something, maggot?’
‘No miss honest, I didn’t.’
‘Good job too.’
I raise the paddle.
Flinch, leg shudder, cock throb, no moan.
‘Good boy,’ I say, and we repeat the performance twice more.
‘Okay,’ I say, stepping away from him and admiring the red welts I’ve put on his arse cheeks. ‘Let’s try this again.’
I wait outside the kitchen door again. The feeling of his hard cock in my hand as I paddled his arse has made me wet. This is really a fantastic way of teasing myself too.
‘Inspection time,’ I call out and head back into the kitchen.
Pete has listened to what I said last time – he’s kneeling, his upper body pronated. His arms are out in front, hands clasped in a prayer position.
‘Very good, I like that,’ I say. ‘So from this point onwards that will be the position you adopt for inspection. Is that clear?’
He keeps his head to the floor and I hear a muffled, ‘yes miss.’
‘Good boy. So, you’ve seen how training works. There’s a period of trial and error and your errors get punished. However, it would be unfair not to reward you when you get things right.’
Pete still has his head to the floor. ‘Thank you miss.’
‘Get up,’ I say, and Pete gets to his feet. ‘Right, the inspection. What have you done so far?’
Pete points to the cooker hob and hood, the work surfaces and the unit doors he’s wiped down.
‘Let’s look a little closer,’ I say, grasping his shaft with one hand and slipping the other behind, holding his inflamed bum cheeks.
Pete walks slowly over the cooker.
‘The glass looks really good,’ I say. ‘There’s no baked on residue left and it positively gleams. Well done.’ I give his erection a few strokes and slip my other hand between his cheeks and run my finger nails over the underside of his taught testicle sack. His thighs and hips start to shake. ‘Control your reaction,’ I say. ‘Or I’ll withhold your reward.’
‘S-s-sorry miss.’ He struggles to get the words out coherently.
‘The hood looks really good too. Run your fingers over it please then show them to me.’ He does as he’s told. His fingers leave no trace on their presence on the hood which means there’s no visible grease residue. His fingers don’t shine with grease residue either.
‘Excellent work,’ I say. I tease his testicles with my nails again while giving his cock a few more rapid strokes. Pete stifles a moan.
‘Next,’ I say, and we move on to the work surfaces. ‘Pull out kettle, the toaster and a few of the jars and boxes please.’
He pulls the kettle forward and the surface is clean behind and worth a few more cock and testicle treats. The surface behind the toaster is crumb free and clean which is worthy of some more intense and rapid cock stroking and testicle teasing. The surface behind the boxes is also good earning him some more treats.
‘Right, the unit doors.’
We examine all the doors he’s cleaned and his work is so good I decide to really reward him. I can tell he’s quite close so I increase speed stroking his cock and tickling his nut sack.
‘Please miss, can I moan.’
‘Yes,’ I say and he lets out a deep moan of pleasure.
He’s close, control it.
I’m listening to his breathing and paying attention to the way he’s shaking and shuddering. When I feel he’s about to explode I ease up managing to stop before he orgasms. He’s right on the edge and I feel a sudden pulse run from the base of his shaft to the tip. A spurt of cum shoots out, flies towards the cooker and splats across the shiny, black glass hob.
‘Oh God,’ says Pete.
‘I know, you filthy little fucker. Get that cleaned up.’ I let go of his cock and make for the kitchen door. In the doorway I stop and turn round. Pete’s stood watching me with a mixed look of delight and disbelief on his face.
I bet he didn’t know his cock could do that.
One of my other customers is really good at tantric. He can get himself to the edge and control it so that he has a mini orgasm without blowing his whole load. He says it’s much more satisfying when you do finally orgasm, but I imagine for Pete it must be really frustrating to be taken to the edge, only to be stopped from reaching the big finale.
‘The next inspection will be in 20 minutes,’ I say. ‘And you’re a bit behind because you needed training so you’d best get a move on.’ I turn away, then turn back. ‘Oh, and I’ll have another mug of tea please.’
‘Yes miss,’ he says. ‘Of course.’