Chaffernaught 02

Chapter 02: A Little Bit of

It turned out to be a bright summer day and once on the platform I retrieved my cigarette case and opened it. As I took a cigarette from it a flame appeared and I was treated to the tiny tinkle of his bell. Though itching to have his tongue buried in my behind I remained cold and indifferent by ignoring him. True, I wanted my pussieboy to first dine on the Nubian's sperm. As is expected, pussy had just spent over an hour of her time extracting rather copious amounts of it for him from my Nubian Prince. A pussieboy needs to be fed gobs of warm sperm from a well-fucked pussy. Whether fresh or stale, a thick creamy pie is what a good owner feeds her pussieboy. My little pervert expected it of me, and along with keeping my breasts up and out, it was the least I could do.

He'd been waiting as expected, as I'd taught him, somewhat out of fear for my birch rod, but mostly to garner favor. He was mewing in the cutest way, and I, and my pussy, were very pleased. It was easy to see he wanted nothing better than to get his hands and mouth on my breasts. Even now, from the corner of my eye I saw him staring at them pressing out against the material of my blouse, at the bumps caused by my stiffened nipples. I took a breath and held them higher, as if offering them to him. These were his reward for obedience and the movement of his cock behind the material of his sweat pants told me they were having the desired effect. He liked nothing better than to kneel at my feet looking up at them, or better yet, to have them dangling above him as he lay on the bed, or best of all, having permission to do anything he'd like to them, ouch.

As instructed, he was wearing the bell on a cord of leather around his neck. As I inhaled to the sound of his mewing I looked him over from behind my dark sunglasses. He'd dressed as expected, a light t-shirt, sweatpants and sneakers, the only articles of clothing I allow him to wear in public with me. I even noted he was sockless. He was such an obedient naughty boy I allowed the fleetest of smiles to cross my lips.

So far he was doing very well, but I didn't want to tell him, as that would never do. My pussieboy must expect a cold cruel mistress, not a schoolmarm. He waited patiently, mewing eagerly, thighs pressing together in obvious attempts to capture and massage his cock. I was sure he'd begin masturbating right here and now if I so ordered, but he wasn't quite ready to be shown publicly.

He stood before me mewing and twitching, his hands trembling near his crotch, waiting to grab his cock and begin pumping. I smoked my cigarette and told him in very explicit words about the male I'd met on the train. How I'd sucked this cock and balls, and how I'd let him fuck my pussy and behind. As I spun my tale I stopped along the way to remind my joeie that these were things he was never permitted to do.

I knew my adventure stories excited him almost as much as my controlling his sex, or that of my turning him into a jism slurping, pussieboy, whose only sex is masturbating and 'fucking' my left hand, when she's in the mood to allow him. It's a custom among the sisters of the sorority going back to its founding, that the left hand of every sister must eventually 'marry' a male. It was time for one of my little tests, and if I were lucky he'd earn ten more swats of the birch.

Grinding my cigarette under a heel, I placed the index fingernail of my right hand under his chin and lifted his head up toward the sun. My actions appeared as innocent as could be and few people passing took a second look. I appeared much like a concerned mother, or interested better half, but he only hesitated ever so slightly, just enough for me to use as an excuse to begin our week with discipline, which is the best way to begin my visits. His mewing became more pronounced, meaningful. I pushed his head up higher and pretended to be looking at something of interest on his neck, and whispered into his ear so no one would hear.

"Pussieboy, you know better than to resist me," I purred in false surprise. "And for that you will receive ten with the birch rod!" I could feel him tremble to my words, as I expected a true pussieboy should, and as a true pussieboy he made every attempt there and then at that moment, to behave even better. My most difficult questions to myself were, 'what couldn't I get this sexually frustrated fool to do for me', and, 'how could I control myself?'

People passing must have taken us for a cute couple. They must have thought I was checking my boyfriend's neck for a bruise or something like that, when instead I was demonstrating my dominance, and his submissiveness. He whined for real after hearing about the punishment, but he understood what it meant.

I removed my finger from under his chin, scraping his skin lightly, and as expected, his eyes immediately went back to staring at my breasts as his hands struggled on either side of his active hard-on. I looked down to find the front of his sweat pants soaking wet with juices from his drooling cock. It bothered me to see those juices being wasted and my disappointment showed. He mewed louder, begging me to let him masturbate.

"You'd beat-off right here and now if I tell you to, wouldn't you, you silly ass bimbo," I stated in a quiet but stern voice meant to degrade and humiliate, and he nodded in acknowledgement. He couldn't hide his sexual frustration, or control it. So I took a breath and held my breasts up even higher, and brought them to just under his eyes, right up to his chest. He actually had to catch drool from the corners of his mouth, but he never stopped mewing.

"Yes, Mistress Colleen," he murmured loud enough for me to hear. I could tell the thought of me ordering him to begin masturbating caused him some distress, but too, I could tell he was to the point of not caring who saw him. He was almost ready. Between the large wet spot, his bouncing cock, and his struggles, I had to laugh out loud at him. I did so knowing it fed his perversion, served to stoke his sexual frustration. I couldn't help but tease.

I need to accustom my pussieboy to being embarrassed when in public with me, but I'm taking it slow. I hold my breasts up proudly before him, like one would a meaty bone to a starving dog. I capture them between my upper arms and press them together. His eyes go wide and his mouth falls open, and I laugh at how simple he is to control even here in the train depot parking lot.

As mother and Governess, I need to take care of my breasts, since they're something my charge holds so dear, and they're one of his few rewards. Any boy that works as hard as my pussieboy does just to see, and maybe fondle my breasts, deserves to know they're well taken care of.

I make a motion that tells him I'm ready to go. Without taking his eyes from my breasts he grabs my bags and we walk to his vehicle, him mewing the entire way. When settled he offers me a thermal cup and I take a sip. I knew it wouldn't be coffee, since it was after 11am and I do not drink coffee after that time. No, my thoughtful pussieboy provided me Old Grand-Dad bonded bourbon, with a single ice cube. I took another sip and set the cup aside. With his eyes once again glued to my breasts, this time seeking out my cleavage, I reached over and slipped my hand into his sweats. I found and enveloped one of his balls in my fist. I discovered the ball swollen and its confines damp. joeie literally jumped in my hand, and mewed louder and more plaintively.

"You are never to hesitate when I give you a command," I hissed in a sinister voice, squeezing his ball hard, "you are to do as I say immediately, without thinking!" His body went stiff, and he whined loudly. He fought to stay still as tears came to his eyes.

"Yes, Mistress Colleen," he whispered in plea. He sighed with relief when I released his testicle.

I pulled his waistband down to see for myself he'd worn no underwear, but it was simply to showoff and demonstrate my superiority. Satisfied, I grasped his hardened cock lightly. It throbbed in my palm as I ran a fingernail along its bottom, from its head down to its base, and back. My pussieboy shivered in the heat, prepared to be humiliated by me in the most vulgar ways I can imagine. No matter how mean I am to him, or how badly I treat him, he still can't take his eyes off my breasts. I open the top few buttons of my blouse so he can see deeper into my cleavage, but alas, it's time to go and I demand he keeps his eyes on the road and off my breasts. He'll obey, because he wants to see them again. Such is the way of a pervert.