tagBDSMMick Britton: Third Lesson Part 04

Mick Britton: Third Lesson Part 04

byXantu©

Miss Smith continues her home studies. Mick pushes her a little hard and brings up some bad childhood memories.

Enjoy

xantu


<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

When he had finished eating the slice of cake in front of him, Mick stood and looked down at missy kneeling on the floor at his feet. "Get yourself something to eat and then clean up in here. When you are finished come downstairs."

Missy carefully dished herself up a plate of the gray meatloaf, potatoes and gravy and a piece of corn. Remembering his words that any task that could be accomplished on her knees should be done so, she put the plate on the floor and efficiently shoveled the food into her mouth. Again the food was not warm and while she felt empty, she had little appetite. She ate out of obedience and a pragmatic understanding that she did not know when she would be permitted to eat again.

Mick was seated at the desk writing on the pad of paper she had gotten for him that morning. It seemed like it had been days ago instead of hours. Missy knelt at his feet like he had instructed her to, waiting his next instruction. Mick sighed and put down the pencil. "Missy go in the bathroom and put your hair back up in a pony tail on top of your head like I had it before and then come back."

"Mick Sir, would it be permitted for this student to speak?"

He frowned and shrugged, "What?"

"Mick Sir, um..." Miss stopped her face a flushing red with embarrassment. "...um... I need to go to bathroom."

He paused and looked at her, his lips quivered with a flash of humor. "If a student has to use the restroom, that student should raise her hand and wait to be called on by her teacher and then ask to use the restroom."

Missy nodded and raised her hand.

Mick looked serious and then asked, "missy do you need to use the restroom?"

"Yes Mick Sir."

"Number one or number two?"

Missy froze, her eyes widening in shock. "Um... um... number two." Her voice was small and humiliated.

Mick raised a brow, "OK you have permission to use the bathroom but do not flush the toilet when you are finished."

A tiny whimper of distress shook her. Her voice was strangled. "Yes Mick Sir."

Missy did not have any problem moving her bowels. She had felt cramps and gassy all evening and wondered if it had anything to do with having him fuck her ass earlier. She wiped herself meticulously and then got a wash cloth and washed her whole crotch and bottom almost obsessively. She looked miserably at the feces and toilet paper floating in the toilet and closed the lid. Carefully combing her hair and putting it into a pony tail she turned to leave. Pausing at the door she scanned the bathroom, avoiding looking at the toilet and turned off the light.

Returning to kneel at Mick's feet she stared at the floor, her shoulders up around her ears, her face miserable. Mick sat in the desk chair looking at her. His eyes were amused and he had a curious tiny smile on his lips. "Perk up missy, at least I did not make you bring it back to show me or tell you to shit here on the floor while I watched. Just think it could have been so much worse."

She looked up in shock, her mouth opening to protest and then snapping shut and her eyes turning down to the floor. Her eyes filled with tears. A silent sob shook her.

His voice turned sharp and angry. "You are beginning to master rule one but I think that you do not understand what obeying truly is. You will learn to obey without thought missy. My words will become your will. There will be no hesitation, no embarrassment, and not a single fucking question. Do you understand?"

Her voice was filled with sadness, "Yes Mick Sir."

"What are the rules?"

Her voice was flat and exhausted, "Listen, obey, respect, and have a good attitude."

"And what rule are you ignoring?"

She looked up at him in alarm and through trembling lips whispered, "Attitude Sir." She wanted to protest that she was not ignoring, that she had forgotten, and that it was hard. She forced her eyes back to the floor, hiding her face from him afraid that her feelings would show.

Mick picked up the leather dog collar and buckled it around her neck. "Missy you will learn that rule number two is going to be very much easier if you have a good attitude, in fact each rule helps reinforce and support the others. Even rule number one should apply to the words you do not speak, to your thoughts. Try not to think so much, even now your thoughts betray you."

He made a mark on the collar and removed it and drilled a hole through both layers of the leather and slipped it around her neck once more. He worked the small padlock through the holes and snapped it shut. He attached the leash and pulled up on the collar forcing her chin up. When she started to rise up off her knees he spoke again, "No, stay on your knees, just stretch up taller and look up at me."

The smooth chrome chain of the leash pushed up under her chin, lifting her face up. Her eyes found his and she blinked under the intensity of his gaze. "Tell me about yourself missy. Tell me about what it is inside you that makes you hate yourself so much."

Missy jerked back fighting the leash, her eyes wide with horror. He refused to let her go and she fought him with all her strength. There was panic in her voice as she began to beg him, "No, let me go! Stop it! Please, oh please no!" She grabbed at the leash and tried to yank it from his hands. Finally she threw herself on the floor, ignoring the choking constriction of the collar pulling at her neck. Her words dissolved into sobs and pleading whimpers. When the leash loosened she huddled on the floor in a small ball sobbing convulsively.

She flinched and jerked away from his hand when he touched her shoulder. Her voice was hoarse and pleading, "No, oh please, no."

"What are you afraid I am going to do missy?" His voice was soft and close.

Her voice came from the middle of her huddled ball. "It's too hard. I can't do it."

"What can't you do missy."

"Listen, obey, respect, attitude. It is too hard."

"Tell me why it is so hard missy." His voice was close and she peeked out and realized he was sitting on the floor close to her, his hand lightly on her shoulder.

As she began to speak, he began to stroke her back. Her voice quivered and shook; it was almost childlike, "I... I am bad. I am dirty."

"Tell me about that."

Her voice was oddly harsh and acid, "Go to your room Sarah. Go to your room and take off your dirty panties." She looked up and him and suddenly gagged and lurched to her feet and rushed into the bathroom. She had her hand clutched over her mouth trying to keep the vomit from spewing from her mouth when she ripped up the lid of the toilet she reeled back at the sight of her shit floating in the toilet and collapsed onto the bathroom floor.

She woke to the sensation of warm water flowing over her. Mick had her sitting on the floor of the shower and was rinsing her clean. There was the strong smell of vomit in the warm steamy air of the stall. As Mick lathered her hair and rinsed it clean, the sour smell was replaced with the sweet scents of lavender and soap. Her voice was tiny. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what missy."

"I didn't follow the rules."

"That's true you didn't, but I think I may have been pushing a little hard without understanding why you are so sad."

"Sarah was bad. She would have accidents in her panties. Her mother hated that... She, she hated me."

"What would she do missy."

"She would punish Sarah. She would lock Sarah in the bathroom and make her scrub her panties until all the stains were gone. Sarah had to eat and sleep in the bathroom." Missy shot a look at Mick, her eyes frightened and sad. "Sarah had to show her mother the poop in the toilet before she could come out. If Sarah could not poop in the toilet she would give Sarah an enema."

"And I managed to step right in it didn't I missy? All this resistance to anything to do with your ass and here I thought you were just a little shy."

Again her voice was tiny. "I'm sorry."

He helped her to stand and began to rinse the soap off her. "Missy, it's OK. You aren't in trouble. We need to take a break. I need to think about this. I want you to come in and lie down. I am going out and I will be back late. I want you to stay here." He pulled her from the shower and carefully dried her off. Come to the bed missy."

She found herself being tucked under the covers and watched him with wide eyes as he pulled out one of the dog chains and padlocked it to her collar. Somehow the fact he was locking her made her realize he would have to come back. The growing fear he was leaving and not coming back was allayed. "You are coming back." Her words were filled with relief.

"I said I would be back late." He padlocked the other end of the chain to one of the eye bolts in the doorway and gave it a firm yank. "You should be able to reach the bathroom."

He came back and pulled the covers back and rolled her over onto her stomach and quickly and efficiently tied her hands behind her back. Missy was still so shaken that she spoke without thought. "Where are you going?"

He gave her a quick swat on the ass and spoke sharply, "Remember your rules missy. And don't bother to ask. It is none of your business where I am going." Missy kept her words to herself but a tiny whimper leaked from her lips. As he left the room he turned off the leaving the room in shadows.

It was not completely dark, the light was on in the bathroom and the door stood open. She lay on her side, her knees pulled up almost to her chest. Tears dripped slowly down her face and she would sniff and swallow down the snot and wipe her face on the pillow. It seemed to take a long time for the sadness to fade to a soft dull ache, for Sarah to fade away. It seemed like she was losing missy more and more, that Sarah kept pushing her way into her consciousness, sad Sarah, dirty Sarah, and lonely, frightened, needy, bad Sarah.

Miss Smith had taken all the psychology classes in college. She knew that Sarah's incontinence as a child was probably a response to her father's death and her mother's obsessive controlling. She saw how each of her siblings had tried to cope in their own way with the loss. Her brother threw himself into sports and alcohol. The odd set of twins, one so skinny and the other so fat, each acting out their pain with their appetites. And Sarah, never confronting her mother but repeatedly soiling herself in a quiet scream for attention, any kind of attention, the shit that leaked from her a metaphor for the dark pain that filled her heart.

Her mother's disgust and strict hygienic attempts to cure this symptom of a larger problem was ultimately successful. Sarah learned to hide her sadness. At least she thought she had learned to hide it.

Mick's words telling her that it showed in her eyes had dredged up all the old pain. And then his words telling her to not flush the toilet were an echo from her childhood. It seemed like a lifetime of her difficultly learned lessons of self control were being shredded away.

Again she had no way to measure the passage of time, and again sleep eluded her. She lay huddled on her side under the blanket. Each time she would move, the chain attached to her collar would rattle or clink. She wondered why he had chained her. She would not have left. It was not out of fear that she was going to run away. He had already sent her out of the house on an errand and did not show any anxiety about her return. She knew that the chain was to serve a purpose to communicate to her what she was, a mark of her status.

She did not know when she fell asleep, Mick's feet on the stairs woke her and she stretched and blinked when he turned on the light. He had a gym bag in one hand and a plastic bag in another. She slipped out from under the blankets and knelt on the thin pad. "This student greets her teacher and asks how she may serve him."

Mick looked up at her in surprise and smiled, "It is good to see you remembering your lessons missy." His eyes were tired and he yawned. Taking a key out of his pocket he unsnapped the padlock attaching the chain to her collar and then untied her arms. "Go upstairs and get a few more blankets and a couple more pillows, whatever you need to be warm enough on your pad on the floor. I am going to take the bed."

She hesitantly raised her hand and Mick blinked and asked, "Do you need to use the restroom missy?"

"Yes Mick Sir." She struggled to keep her voice clear, to cover her humiliation with at least a simulation of the attitude he wanted from her.

This time he only shrugged and said, "Sure go ahead, and for now missy unless I tell you different just go ahead and flush." A warm flood of relief and gratitude swept over her. She would have spoken of her gratitude if it was permitted. Instead she smiled and scurried off to complete her tasks.

Mick was nude and sitting on the edge of the bed looking at her with half closed sleepy eyes. Carefully placing the pillow and blankets to one side of the pad, she knelt near his feet and waited for his next instruction. She looked out of the corner of her eye at his penis, lying half erect against one of his thighs. She thought to herself how beautiful it was and found herself swallowing down the saliva that suddenly flooded her mouth.

Her eyes reached up to his face, wanting direction, the urge to touch him becoming almost unendurable. A shiver of nervous tension shook her.

When his voice came it was felt like a warm buffet of wind shaking her. "Missy, come help your teacher sleep. Give me your mouth."

She eagerly bent to her task. Taking him into her mouth and gently bathing his growing hardness in her warm wet spit. She drew a deep breath in through her nose, drawing his scent in, trying to fill her soul with this smell that so intoxicated her. A soft groan of happiness welled up in her chest. As he grew harder and filled her mouth she gripped the base of his hard shaft and let her lips and tongue glide up and down, sucking gently. She did not hurry. She wanted this to last as long as possible, this one time when she could touch him, kiss him without censure.

Too soon he tangled his hands in her hair and urged her to speed up and grunted softly as he filled her mouth with his come, his cock flexing and twitching in her mouth with each spurt of the salty hot semen. Missy held it in her mouth, savoring it, reluctant to let it slip down her throat, saving it like it was precious to her, his gift to keep as long as possible.

She fell asleep curled up in her blankets on the floor; she did not swallow until after she fell asleep. She woke to the sensation of his touch on her face, a single finger gently stroking her cheek and then as her eyes opened, tracing the contours of her lips. Missy looked up at his face looking over the edge of the bed, staring down at her, her eyes sinking into his. She smiled softly and kissed at his finger as it caressed her lips. His eyes darkened and he slipped his fingers under her collar and pulled at her impatiently, lifting her to her knees. "Get a condom from the desk. I want you."

A rush of excitement, so strong that it made it hard to think, shook her. Her cunt clenched and convulsed so strongly she thought she might be coming just from his words. Her hand was trembling as she held out the wrapped condom resting on the palm. He grabbed her whole hand trapping the condom between their palms and pulled her into bed on top of him.

A tiny squeal of excitement escaped her lips as she fell over on top of him. He laughed out loud and wrapped his arms around her and twisted quickly, rolling over on top of her, pinning her to the bed. For what seemed like minutes he held her there looking down at her face, his hands holding her wrists, his legs twined around hers forcing them to spread wide. She could feel the hot tip of his cock barely touching her opening, a burning blind kiss against her aching need. A pleading whimper shook her as she struggled to press against him. "Please!"

He smiled and murmured, "Slow down missy, always in such a hurry."

She twisted in his arms, arching against him, craving any sensation she could find. He took her mouth in his, stifling her whimpers, pulling her tongue in his mouth and sucking on it. She was struggling against his hands, wanting to be free to touch him, to pull at him.

"Missy I am going to let go of your hands but you must keep them up here above your head. Remember a student does not put her hands on her Teacher's body unless instructed to." When she nodded, he unlaced his fingers from hers. She kept them above her head, reaching up and gripping at the metal bars of the old wrought iron head board. His eyes followed her hands up and he nodded in approval. "That's a good student; that will help you remember."

He slid down and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, pulling at it with his lips, stretching and tugging at her until the suction broke with an audible pop from his lips and then bent to her other breast. Missy surged under him and squealed with joy at the sensation shooting from her breasts and through her body. A soft trickle of moisture oozed from her opening and dripped down between her legs, tickling at her other smaller opening. Feverishly she gripped at the bar above her head, fighting the impulse to reach to him.

When he slipped lower and pressed his lips to her cleft she almost lost her hold, her whole body suddenly locked in that exquisite arch heralding the onset of her climax. Lifting his lips from her he denied her that last touch that would lift her over the edge and let her tumble down. She hung there, her whole cunt seemed to spasm over and over trying to reach that last bit of sensation it needed. He knelt upright between her legs and looked down at her as he slowly ripped open the condom package and rolled the greasy looking covering over his cock. Missy's nostrils twitched at the smell of the latex; she felt a flash of hate for that thing that would act as a barrier between them.

His eyes caught the look on her face and he grinned, "Yeah these things suck." He slowly slid into her, sinking into her depths. The feeling of her walls stretching and adjusting to his entry was magical; she arched and gasped out, "Oh so good inside, yes, yes..."

Mick looked down at her as he slowly pressed deep and hard, grinding his pelvis against her. She looked up, her eyes locked on his, her whole body once again tensing and tightening up in its primal curve. Her eyes widened and then her head snapped back and she let out a grating wail, her body undulating with waves of her ecstasy. Lifting her legs up with his arms, Mick began to thrust deep and hard, forcing grunting groans from her with each slap of his hips against her. He reached up and grabbed the head board and lunged against her hard, tensed and shuddered with his finish.

Missy was limp and blinking with lazy satisfaction when he pulled free of her and carefully slipped off the condom. "Open your mouth missy." And as she obediently opened her lips, he tipped the condom up and squeezed its contents out into her mouth. It tasted strongly of the smell of the condom, bitter and artificial. She fought to keep from gagging and quickly swallowed it down to get the taste out of her mouth. A shudder of disgust shook her.

Her hands were still locked around the iron bars above her head. She ran her tongue across her teeth, swallowed again and licked her lips trying vainly to get the last bit of the latex aftertaste rinsed away. Mick chuckled, "Not as good as fresh from the tap missy?" She shuddered again and shook her head. "Come on down and clean me off." Her fingers were stiff and there were red marks on the inside of her hands from gripping the bar.

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