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In their case, turn about was fair play because she really loved Tim. This was not abuse, it was love. Michele was very clear on the matter: these conversations, no matter how challenging for Timmy, were an expression of love.
"I'm not being prissy. I'm just saying that was mean and I don't want to be spoken to like that."
Though he channeled tempered anger, Michele heard just a touch of apology in his tone. It was the way a child expressed his anger to his mother when he felt he needed to stand up to her injustice but at the same time could not quite lose sight of his fear of her.
Suddenly in a dark mood, she sneered, "Oh my god, you are so sensitive! Grow up! And don't you dare cry!"
"I'm not sensitive! I just don't like that. And I'm not gonna...not gonna cra...cra..."
Interrupting him mid stutter, "Not sensitive? Not 'gonna cra...cra...cra...cry? You're a little crybaby, sissy-boy. Is my little boy going to cry? Are you going to cry again just because I can imagine being with someone else? It's not like I've done anything and I'm just being honest. Maybe I do want him. Maybe I do want a man. Are you going to cry like always, Little-Miss-Sissy-Panties?"
Crying was not really a common occurrence and he was puzzled by the comment but also upset by it. Yes, he'd cried a couple of times.
But I'm not a crybaby! God, totally unfair! I only sometimes cry... and I never used to.
Tim had been nowhere near to tears...until she mentioned it. Suddenly he was in touch with profound feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness. Desperation and defeat informed his tone, "Stop it! You can't say that to me!"
Oh my god, do not cry! Do NOT!
His emotions were boiling over and he could feel the tears welling and hated himself. He heard her laughing.
Oh my god, do not cry! Please don't cry.
"'Stop it!'" she mocked in his exaggerated, baby voice. '"You can't say that to me!'" She laughed at his powerlessness.
"Oh my goodness, here come the tears...again." She squeezed her thighs and experienced a sweet, little orgasm as she saw the first tears streak down his cheeks.
Do not cry, do not cry! Please, please, please do not cry! Oh my god!
Once more her tone shifted, revealing yet another sudden mood swing. Suddenly detached, almost bored, "Then go. Actually, you know what...sometimes I just don't think I want to deal with you anymore."
And there it was again, the ultimate power: the power to leave Tim. "Maybe we should just break up."
By this point, Michele was pissed. Deep down, Michele knew she was not really angry with Tim even though she channeled real anger. That she could direct it at Tim and that he became more dependent on her for it, was however, wonderful. It was beyond wonderful; she consciously thought it was beautiful and perfect.
Michele loved that she could be mean, experience real anger all while becoming aroused. She understood early on that Tim was aroused by her demonstrations of power and it created a reciprocity. Being mean turned Michele on and she loved it.
"Come on Michele...I just..."
"If I wanted to date a little girl, I'd have hooked up with Tanya. Actually, she's way more mature than you and she'd smack your ass across this room."
"No she wouldn't." Tim instantly knew his retort was fool hearty and he regretted saying it. Challenging Michele was the last thing he wanted to do.
Predictably, he took the bait and Michele's eyes went dramatically wide with indignity. In a steely tone, "Bring me the phone. She will be here in ten minutes. Actually I'd like to see this. Oh my god, this will be good! She totally knows what I do to you! Know for a fact that she'll enjoy this! God, she's gonna love it!"
She sounded excited and eager for the show. "Maybe I should make some popcorn."
Now Tim was faced with a possible break up and the humiliation of Tanya seeing how they lived within the confines of Michele's home. In a flash, he wondered if Tanya would really slap him around. Everything he knew about Tanya suggested she would. And she'd like it.
He already knew that if Michele really wanted it, he'd let her. Tim quickly visualized, pretty, little Tanya laughing and totally marveling at the new found and totally unexpected ability to slap a man down to the ground. He felt profound shame as he noticed his cock twitching of its own accord. Suddenly it shot up to full mast.
"No...I...I didn't mean it. I...I..."
"Go cry in the kitchen, I don't even want to look at you."
Tim retreated to the kitchen and ruminated about the possibility of Michele leaving him. He went from being angry with her to being suddenly terrified she'd leave him. After about forty minutes, he came back to Michele in a completely different mood. He was frightened and totally conciliatory. "I'm sorry I upset you Ms. Michele. I...I, just...I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you mad..."
She was pleased with his desperation. She deemed it suitable.
"Ms. Michele, please forgive me. It was all my fault."
She absolutely loved what the weight of her mood did to him. She knew his contrition was absolutely genuine and he took full blame for her behavior.
"What did you do wrong and how do you need to do it better next time?"
"I know you were just having fun and I need to learn how to take a joke. I can't be a sass-mouth...ever. I know better than to use potty-talk. I'm sorry. I was wrong about everything and I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
Her superior smirk made him feel small and weak, but he also recognized that it was the first shift towards her acceptance and his redemption.
Thank god.
And that was how it usually went. It was actually perfect for both of them: she'd belittle him, he'd attempt to speak to her about how he wanted to be treated, she'd suggest breaking up because he was "too much of a little girl," or maybe go directly into slap-down mode and soon enough, he'd be apologizing to her. She was mean and he'd be apologizing. And if nothing else, she could always hook him with the "I was just kidding, can't you take a joke" abuse used by so many emotional predators.
After flashing the threat of ending the relationship, in time, Michele did not even have to say it anymore. She'd planted the seed and the fear of being left by Michele was a flowering weed that had matured and grew in his mind.
Often this pattern culminated in their most sacred ceremony with Tim bottom up over her knee. Michele thought of these as tweener spankings on the scale of severity because they were in between a play spanking and a punishment spanking. She'd land a handful of really hard ones and gradually dial down the force as she moved forward with the "gentle reminder," at hand. The message was clear: I can do this to you anytime I want to...anytime and for any reason.
After lowering his shorts and underwear to his knees, "Now you bend over my knee this instant." After gaining his compliance, "You know what, young man, sometimes I feel as though you are trying to upset me. Is this your little game?"
"No, no, Ms. Michele! I...I wasn't!"
"Well, you have earned this one."
SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK
Michele had become an expert at affecting and truly internalizing the role of the vexed and cross Mother to her exasperating son. "Honestly, Timothy, I don't know why I put up with this."
SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK
It burned terribly and he had to just try to give into it.
"Do you really think I should have to put up with this nonsense?"
SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK
"No! Owww No, no, Ms. Michele. No, Ma'am!"
SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK
"Young man, you are far too sensitive. You need to learn how to take a joke. I was obviously just teasing you. I don't want to be in one of those relationships where I feel like I can't crack a joke every once in a while. Honestly! Goodness, just what am I going to do with you?"
Spank Spank Spank Spank Spank Spank Spank Spank Spank
"Teach me?"
"Teach you, I will."
spank spank spank spankspankspankspank...
Then she "let" him pleasure her. As he pleased her, he was forgiven and found redemption. For Tim, it was an erotic expression of gratitude in return for her guidance, forgiveness and for having taken him back. With her approval, he discovered the floor once more beneath his feet. He expressed his desperate and ever devoted love and she accepted, and all was right in the world once more. They were an affectionate and by all accounts, loving, normal couple, once again.
****
Perhaps more often she played this game without getting angry at all. She liked that she could get just as turned on being the light and breezy, yet oh so authoritarian, Happy Bitch. She could enjoy herself and let her very real smile blaze as she used her words as the sharpest feline claws to work her boy...and be just as aroused as he was.
It was a Saturday and she was in her bathroom. As Tim walked in, she was pulling on her cut off t-shirt. Since there were no arms, it was easy to see her bikini top through the arm openings. She went back to preening and ever so subtly pushed out her exquisitely shaped rear end.
Without giving him a glance, "Do I look pretty?"
"Of course you do, Michele. You are the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life."
She appreciated that he truly meant what he said. "Does my butt look good in these shorts?"
She was wearing the skimpiest Daisy Dukes. They rode right up her ass and were cut just high enough that a little of her perfect, round, bubble butt was revealed.
"It's perfect."
She smiled knowing he was not talking about her shorts. "Good, cause they always make me feel special. "Special" was the word Michele liked to use to describe when she was sexually aroused. "Would you like me to feel more special?"
"Yes!"
Michele laughed at his eagerness. "Get down on your knees and I'll let you just kind of pet me right here." She used her hand and rubbed it gently over her out thrust ass.
Tim complied with silent, mindless gratitude. As he rubbed her ass, he could feel a gentle tingling in his cock and knew he'd better adjust his jeans to relieve the binding or he'd pass out...or cum.
As she continued to primp, "That's good. I like feeling special. Do you like when I feel special?"
"More than anything in the world."
"Do you think I look prettier when I feel special? Like, when I'm all completely special, do I look prettier?"
"Oh my god, yes! You look so pretty!" He thought of all the times while between her legs, he'd looked up at his Love just as her orgasm overtook her. Nothing made him feel better about himself than her orgasm. Nothing was more attractive than Michele's face, with her eyes closed and her rapture contorting her lovely features. As she floated back, he'd watch the smile come upon her and and the warmth of the sun shone down from above. Michele's arousal and satisfaction was by now permanently linked to his sense of self worth.
Just now, rubbing her ass was really getting to him and he had to bend slightly at the waist so as not to have a premie in his pants.
"Good, cause I'm going over to Cin and Tanya's house for a little pool party. I can't wait. John's going to be over there and I want to look my prettiest."
"What...who?"
"John, silly. John Sizemore. Oh my god, he's so hot!"
John was in echelon 17 and a total alpha male, jock. Though much bigger than him, Tim was sure he could kick the guy's ass.
"But, Michele..." he said pleadingly.
"He's such a stud! Oh my god, he so completely, totally makes me feel special...just by thinking about him. He's the hottest guy I know." Suddenly she walked away, taking her perfect ass with her.
Devastation began to set in.
"Oh, don't worry about your chores. I've written them all down and put them on the kitchen table. Why don't you see if you can do something extra to surprise me when I get home," she said with a cheerful smile.
He remained stunned, on his knees as he watched her spectacularly beautiful bubble-bottom, wiggle its way out of her bedroom and in the next moment, out of the house.
Chores? Something extra! Fuck her!
He was furious...yet he went nowhere.
Is she really going to hook up with Dickhead-John? Fuck her...and him. Gonna kick his ass!
He continued to go nowhere.
Fuck it, I guess we are through.
And still, he went nowhere.
Extra? I'm not doing shit!
As he calmed down and his anger ebbed away, he was left to wonder about life without Michele. Rubbing her butt was the most erotic thing he'd ever done in his life. He day-dreamed about doing it all day long.
Would she let me do it again? Not if you make her mad she won't.
Then he worried. As he worried, he found himself doing his chores. With the realization came the uncertainty of whether or not he was doing them with fidelity or to specification. He had been operating somewhat mindlessly, after all. Quickly, he reasoned that the only way to deal with his anxiety was to channel it into being a better boyfriend and as far as he was concerned, being a better boyfriend meant pleasing Michele.
He put his mind and his efforts into making Michele's house look perfect, all the while, hoping and praying that Michele had not hooked up with John...and hoping she'd let him rub her bottom some more. Then he gave serious consideration to that extra thing he could do to please her.
*
It turned out that Tanya and Cindy were not even having a pool party.
Who needs video games when I've got Tim's confidence and self worth to play with!
*
As Michele returned several hours later, it was hard not to let his emotions show. Michele looked refreshed and seemed in a light mood. After touring their modest home, obviously inspecting his work, she'd not said a word. However, she did rest her hand on his bottom for a brief time as she took it in and then gave him a very gentle and loving spank. She looked pleased.
Tim's hopes shot to the heavens, yet he contained his reaction until he was sure her inspection was concluded.
He'd ironed many of her skirts and blouses as the extra little thing to please Michele and wanted so badly to throw open her closet and show her. He knew better to than to make it a big, "Look at me" moment. That kind of attention seeking, that sort of prompting of approval had a way of backfiring.
Every once in a while she let her pleasure show and she'd make a big deal out of it by smiling and patting him on the head or butt as she told him he was "good." More often she said nothing and Tim was left to wonder if she even noticed what he'd done. The one time Tim did draw attention to his creative, extra effort, he was rebuked for being a self centered attention seeker and the whole thing was ruined.
*
"You know, it's not like I don't like it that you bought us a steam cleaner and used it to clean some stuff, but you've totally ruined it by making it all about you. 'Look, Ms. Michele,' she mocked, 'look what I did! Don't you want to praise me?' Just stop it! God, you know you probably should have been doing that anyway. Jesus, who's job is it to keep this place clean?"
"I guess, mine."
"You guess?"
"No...I mean it is mine. I'm sorry."
"Exactly, so get over yourself. God, I don't always have the energy to praise you for every little thing. Don't I pay you enough attention?"
No.
But he realized he'd need at least 25 hours in a day of constant Michele time to sate his desire for his one true love. "No...you do. I'm...I'm sorry. I...I won't do it again. I'm sorry."
"God, look what you did! Now I'm in a bad mood." Although irritated, Michele appreciated the opportunity to put her boy in his place.
*
As she thought about how she spoke to Tim that morning, she felt aroused. "I had the very best day," she announced. "Come to my room."
Reclining on her mountain of pillows, she admired the view: Tim lay prone, before her with his face buried in her crotch. She still wore her denim shorts and he offered sweet, little kiss after sweet, little kiss to her crotch. His joy and relief at her return was so endearing. The boy behaved as would a puppy dog would at the return of his master. He was so absolutely in love with her; and she was such a happy girl.
That's right boy, kiss, kiss kiss.
Tim wondered what she was giggling about as he kissed her crotch.
*
Dear Ms. Michele,
Oh, I do like being called "Ms. Michele,"...even by myself! Fun.
I wanted to write a few words on mood and going after Tim.
Sometimes I think of humiliation therapy as "going after him," like it's an attack. Oh my god, I'm sooooooo the mean little kitty-Cat! Sharp Claws! Meow. More like, sexy, hot black panther.
OK, so like, there is this pattern to it all. First I go after him with some pretty humiliation. Oh my! Then he just falls apart like a broken, lost, little boy. Then I discipline him. Then I make his boo-boos all better with affection.
Ok, so the moods. So like in the first part, my moods just switch and change and it's like...amazing.
At a certain important point, I become what I think of as The Superior Girlfriend. The Superior Girlfriend is there to check his attitude and warn him about what will happen if he does not get himself together. She's a grown up and she helps him understand he's a boy and way beneath her. She's so above him that she almost comes off as bored by him. Yet as a grown up, she is responsible and is letting him know that she will deal with him.
I feel very, very, like O so very haughty when I'm Superior GF. And I know I look it too.
Yet much of the time, I become my Mean-Little-Girl. Mean Little-Girl can say the meanest, MEANEST things to poor, little Timmy and when I do it, I feel so cute and little and pretty. So there is Mean-Little-Girl, totally bitch slapping Tim with her words (usually just words...at first...oh god, getting special just writing this!) and then when he gets all defensive, I suddenly switch into Superior Girl Friend.
I don't plan to be all switchy, I just do it naturally.
So let me just say, when I cut him down with humiliation therapy, I get soooooooooo incredibly special. Like way! Oh my god, it's almost embarrassing to say, but I'm not sure anything makes me hornier. Like maybe only slapping and spanking...maybe. Sometimes this even makes me more special.
Like, I'll say the meanest, most outrageous thing and then I watch him. I'm totally smiling and maybe giggling, but I feel like I'm studying him to drink in his reaction. Pretty little girl wants to see his little hurties. Every time, it's the same and let me say, it's perfect! Seriously, seriously, seriously Big-Girl-Fun...even though I'm being my sexy, mean little girl. Smiles! I can actually see all these intense emotions just rush up inside of him. I can actually feel his emotional reaction as it comes off his whole body!
He gets mad, but he also gets so scared! Like so! Often, right about here, his cock gets all hard for me. Fun!
Love that he needs this. It's so pretty and beautiful. Even though I soooooooo love saying these things to him, when I see his cock get hard, I feel like such a good, caring and generous girlfriend. That's how I know that even when I say something that sounds so mean, it's actually love making for us. Love that! Even if he doesn't get hard, it's love making. He's having a hard time breathing and nothing and I mean NOTHING is hotter then when I put him in such an emotional state that he cries. I almost always cum when he cries. Obviously my boy needs this.
