The Perfect Beginning

This is when she came to realize there was something almost contagious about sexual desire.  Previously she never would have guessed behaving this way would turn her on, but there was no denying it, being a Bitch to Tim could be a sexual activity.  

Once she made the connection between Tim's emotional needs and his desire for her, it was so easy to read him.  Although she enjoyed seeing his erection for her, she no longer needed to see it to know it was there.  She knew he was hard when she commanded him, when she shared her mean streak, when he got especially deferential and the biggest tell was his voice.  She could hear his erection in his tone of voice.  His voice became soft and gentle every single time he was hard for her. 

He's hard for me. God I love that soft voice!

The erection was produced because of her and for her.  His erection was an homage to her authority and superior status in the relationship.  From there it was a short leap to thinking of Tim's cock as her cock. 

It's not his, it's mine!  I'm tying this puppet string the tightest!

*

When they were done eating, Michele said, "Now we're going to play, 'What Will Tim Do to Keep His Girlfriend.'  I'll be right back."  

*

The real excitement for Michele began to build as she was wrapping up her homework.  At last it was playtime.  Once out of sight, she bounced and vibrated like an excited little girl.

It was the intention and effect of the comfies that made them so obscene.  Without Tim to see them, they were just nearly ancient pajamas that while too small, they were still comfortable.  Donna smiled when she saw her daughter in them and admired her daughter's pretty body, but there was nothing at all provocative about them since there was nobody present to provoke.

She looked at herself in the mirror.  Every square inch of cotton fabric clung to Michele's little curves.  Even when Michele's nipples were not erect, they looked erect.  Realizing the effect they were about to have on Tim, she felt them erect and smiled.  She pursed her lips in pleasure as she gave her nipples the gentlest of pinches.  Her hard nipples were a constant distraction to her boy. 

Then it dawned on her, her nipples, for the last week or so, had been aching. She thought it odd but shelved the realization.

The real self admiration came when she turned profile to the mirror and appreciated how high the cut was on her way too small boy-short pajama bottoms.  A good fourth of her bottom rounded down below the crotch line of the shorts, where they essentially ended. She had an extraordinarily muscular rump. 

I look good!

Her excitement built all the more as she made her way back to Tim allowing herself the full pleasure of the anticipation of what was to come.  She was buzzing with excitement but willed herself calm.

If she was to maintain her status as confidant, advisor and therapist, it was important that Tim see her as composed.

Her excitement peaked and then plateaued when she crossed the line, the social barrier that other dared not cross.  She loved pushing the limits of their game, making it more extreme and more like she wanted it to be as a relationship.

She remembered when she was visiting her cousins in San Diego.  It was late summer and the ocean water was especially warm.  There she was bobbing in the surf and suddenly a cold water current welled up and swam around her lower legs.  It was almost scary as it startled and excited her.  It almost felt like a Great White shark brushed up against her.  Her eyes went big and goose bumps jumped.  She was scared but she liked how invigorating it was.  

When she crossed the line with Tim, it was a little like that time at the ocean but different.  It was like she was standing in a wind tunnel blowing alternating warm and cold currents of air.  Then again she imagined them like boas of warm and cold air rushing over different parts of her body as the same time.  The sensation thrilled her and life was so vividly clear and wondrous as she realized herself as the predator.  She smiled at her prey.

"Now, let's play, "What Would Tim Do."

*

Tim felt a shiver go up his spine, his anxiety level spiked and his cock hardened.  It was beginning again, they were slipping into their roles. 

Now I get to obey Her. 

Had he been more self aware, he'd have marveled at how he could experience anxiety and a sense of profound comfort from the same experience.

"It's fun for me to think about what you'd do to keep your girlfriend or to try to get her back."  Michele was very conscious not to identify the "girlfriend" as Tiffany.  She wanted it to become generic enough such that it could be any girlfriend...including Michele.  Michele was consciously leaving Tiffany further and further behind such that she now only occasionally entered into conversation and only when it served Michele's purpose.

"Do we have to?" asked Tim, who viewed the prospect with equal parts excitement and dread.

"Of course we do.  Why wouldn't we?" she asked in a tone of warm concern.

"It's kinda', I don't know...embarrassing."

"Awww, poor baby," said with a huge smile and in such a way that Tim was not sure if it was mocking or real empathy.  "I totally get that, but it's good for you.  I kept thinking about when you said you'd kiss your girl's feet and I couldn't stop laughing.  But laughing in a good way," Michele said vaguely. 

"I'd never do anything like that for a guy, but you should be proud of yourself.  I know some part of your ex would love that you'd do that for her even though she's with Brad now and even if there is no way she'd ever get back with you.  It would just be fun for her to know.  I'd be fun for any girl. 

"If you were my ex, I'd definitely want to know. Poor little you, at home, crying to get back with me.  That would be the best!" She laughed.  "It would make a girl feel special. Oh my god, that'd be so funny."

"Why don't you think she'd ever get back with me?" asked Tim.  He no longer pined for Tiffany as he had eyes for one girl.  Yet that did not mean he was not curious about the world he lived in.  Tim was in awe of Michele's wisdom and insight.  In the span of weeks, she'd already taught him so much about relationships and about himself.

"Don't you know?" she said with just the right amount of patronizing disappointment.  

He looked at her with lost hope.  

"It's pretty obvious, Timmy.  She'll never go back to a boy like you.  Come on, get real," the last said with a hint of frustrated disgust.

A boy like me?  

"You've not been paying attention.  Have I taught you nothing?  You were not like, strong enough for her.  She needed a 'Man', not a...a sissy  And I don't mean that in a bad way, so don't get that hurt, crybaby look on your face" she followed up quickly.   

But it did hurt! 

Sissy...in a good way? 

"A sissy?" he asked with a clearly pained expression. 

Michele thinks I'm a sissy!

And there is that hurt cry-baby look on his face I like so much! 

"Don't feel badly about it," she said to mollify him.  "I don't mean you are a sissy all the time and everywhere, just with your girlfriend.  And it doesn't have to be a bad thing.  Sissies are so much more affectionate and gentle...and more emotional.  In a weird kind of way, you can almost be proud of it.  In fact, for the rare girl that wants to date a sissy-boy, and there are so very few, it would be good if you are proud of it.  I say, be a proud, little sissy!" she laughed.  "Might as well own it, it's who you are.  And don't worry, I won't tell. Your embarrassing little secret is safe with me."  Michele laughed again.

Tim felt the ground crumbling beneath him and he fell into his confusion and profound shame.  Conversely, Michele soared with a sense of power and arousal.

"And, don't get me wrong, some girls would loooove a boyfriend who'd kiss their feet, but not Tiff.  Trust me, I've asked around.  A part of her will probably miss having a sissy-boy for her to boss around.  At least occasionally, or for the right kind of girl, that can feel pretty good.  But Tiff needed someone who could stand up to her and you could never do that. 

"Could you imagine any other guy, you know...a real guy kissing his girlfriend's feet so she would not leave him...you know, like kissing in a begging way?  I can't.  I mean Kimberly would relate, but you know she's...she's a silly, desperate girl.

"Cindy knows three different girls who still see their ex-boyfriends.  They're still broken up, like, it's over, but when he's feeling it, he calls her over and she assumes the position. They all swallow and every time they do it, they hope and wish and pray that he will take her back.

"One girl, Marry, has to meet her ex every day after school at his back door just to see if he's in the mood. Most days he lets her in so she can take care of him and then he kicks her out. She told me that one day when she was crying her eyes out in the girls' bathroom.

"It's a certain kind of girl.  You are her and there is no point in denying it. 

"It's totally humiliating for a guy like you, but there are at least a few girls who would loooove that that's the sort of guy you are.  And not many, but a few."  And with slow deliberation, for emphasis, "Some girls will only date sissy-boys. Who knows, maybe you'll get incredibly lucky and one will find you and sweep you off your feet.  Make sure you are ready for when Princess Charming comes along on her white horsey!"  She laughed.  

"So like I said, it's good for you.  It's kind of like therapy for a guy like you."  And the last thing she said was what kept him from total despair, "And don't worry, you are always safe with me.  I'll never tell anybody who you really are."  She smiled warmly.  

Michele was conscious about inviting him to be whom she wanted him to be and whom she thought he was deep down inside.

Though very upset, Tim was reminded that he'd made the very best possible decision in choosing Michele as his confidant.  She was so smart and wise beyond her years. 

Did she really learn all this from reading women's magazines? 

She was somebody he was really starting to look up to.  This was not a game.  Michele had real wisdom that Tim respected.

Tim's head was spinning and he felt on the verge of another panic attack.  At times, when on his own, Tim wondered why he let Michele speak to him in this condescending, almost mean way, but then he realized that everything she said was true, every word...and she protected him, kept his confidence. 

She's safety. 

"What do you mean...and who's Kimberly?"

"I don't know, it's like it helps you get in touch with who you really are," Michele said without further explanation.  "Anyway, I love it. 

"Oh, and a Kimberly's really just a certain kind of girl.  You know, the type who's boyfriend smacks her around and treats her like dirt.  You just remind me of one.  More than remind me, you two are exactly alike; you should be sisters."  Michele smiled triumphantly as she saw him wince with the 'sisters' comment.  

I'm a sissy and a Kimberly.  Does she love it because she likes how humiliating it is for me or because she's the sort of girl who wants a guy like...like me?  Or, could that be the same thing? 

Maybe with Michele, there was hope for Tim.

Maybe she can help me. 

And the now oft repeated thought: Could Michele ever like me for real?  No.  No she can't, sissy.

"I'm wondering, what would you do?"

Tim felt his heart rate quicken and his chest tighten.  This was not where he was going to volunteer to some imagined humiliation.  

"Hmmmm, oh, I know: would you let her ride you?"

"What?"

"You know, like be her horsey, her pony?  All girls like pony rides!"

"I...I don't think so." This one was so over the top, he reasoned. It might even have been worse than kissing her feet.

"Really?  Why not?  Oh, I totally think you should.  If you showed that to your girlfriend, that kind of dedication, it would mean a lot to her."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah!  Totally!  Remember, just because she might not ever want her actual boyfriend to do that, someone she respected, most girls would love to know you would do it for them.  God, especially in front of her friends," she said wistfully. 

"It's sort of like getting invited to the party.  You might not want to go, but you still want to get invited.  My mom told me that.  Deep down, I think every girl wants to feel special and wants to know how far a boy would go to please her.  Everyone wants an invitation, Timmothy. 

"And if deep down you really are the type of boy that would do something like this, I think you owe it to her.  It would be such an incredible thing to do for her...even if it was just to make her laugh.  As long as she felt safe, she would love it.  Like, it couldn't make her look bad so it would have to be in private...or with just one or two of her friends there. The ones she told about you so they already know who you are. It would totally entertain them. I think it would be incredible.  And I know there are a few girls that would actually want that from their boyfriends."

"Seriously?"

"Definitely."

"Would you?"

"My boyfriend's going to treat me like his Princess and every day he's going to have to work hard for me, to prove how much he loves me; so yes, I'd not just like it, I'd expect it.  I guess, I'd kind of want my boyfriend to know his place.  Do you know what I mean?"

Tim was pretty sure she meant that her boyfriend, when she had one, would have to sort of do what she says.  "Yeah, I think so."  And oddly, this seemed totally appropriate to Tim.  He knew he could get with that, if that's what it took. 

Stop it, we'll never be together!  Way too young!  She might want to be treated special but that does not mean she wants a sissy.  She's not into me anyway.

"So would you do it?  If you loved her and you knew at the very least it would please her or amuse her?  Even if you knew she'd not take you back?  Or...maybe it just entertains her. Or you'd need to do to like keep her from leaving you?  Remember, it would make her happy...and I think you should."

...and I think you should.  I should for you?  "Yes."

"Yes, what?"  Michele was not one to let him off easy.  

"Yes, I'd let her."  Tim's face burned red.

"Let her what?  Say it."

"God, Michele, I said it," he responded in irritation. 

Damn it!  A guy can be pushed only so far!  Fuck! 

And immediately he regretted the challenge.

"Oh no you don't!  Don't you dare get an attitude with me, young man!" she stated with the stern baring of an angry mother.

Instantly, he was overcome with fear, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Two statements, but Michele heard begging.  Yet it was not good enough.  "Ask me to forgive you," she said deliberately projecting her "hurt" and anger at his offending words.

Without the slightest hesitation, "I'm so sorry, Michele...I don't know what I was thinking."  And reaching back in desperation, he found and used her words, "I didn't mean to be a sass-mouth and you did not deserve that."  Not until reflecting on the night's events, in the safety of his own bedroom would he curse himself for the "sass-mouth" reference. 

What, am I seven years old now? 

"I'm sorry...please forgive me."

"Are you telling me to forgive you or asking?" she quizzed archly.  

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  I'm asking!  Please, please, Michele, would you please forgive me?  I was bad."

And that was begging!  We'll need to have more of that.

She was just then feeling very pleased with herself.  Taking a theatrical deep breath, "Well alright then, I forgive you.  But I expect you to show much more respect.  Do you understand me, young man?"  She felt the desire to crack a smile at the juvenile "young man" reference but she deliberately refrained.  Sharing her disappointment felt good.

"Yes, Michele...I'm sorry...I will.  I'll be good, I promise."

"You will...?

Tim felt his chest tightening.  "I'll show you more respect.  I...I want to be good.  I want to be good for you."  Though it was a hard thing to say, he also new it was the right thing to say.  With it out, he realized it had an undeniable rightness to it.  It was the rightest thing he could think to say, but he refused to acknowledge what it meant.  "I'll be good," was little boy language for, "I will submit and obey."

"Okay then.  I like good boys.  I like boys who know how to behave themselves.  Do you want me to like you?"

"Yes, yes of course I want you to like me."

"Good, then what do you have to do?"

"Be a...be a good boy."

She smiled.  He'd began his declaration with enthusiasm and right in the middle, as it dawned on him exactly what he was saying, he fell off a cliff and the "good boy" part came out as a whisper.  

"Yes, you will be my good boy." She beamed at him.

"Now answer the question."

"I'd...I'd let her...you know...ride me like a, a horse."  Tim burned with shame, his face crimson.

"Not a horse, silly." suddenly affecting a more playful, excited and delighted, little girl voice.  "A horsey, or a pony."  

Her suddenly shifting moods always confused Tim and for an instant he wondered why the "y" on the end made it so much worse, but then he remembered what Michele said about how all this was good for him and maybe it was.

"Yes," Tim whispered.  "I'd be her horsey."  Voiced a touch louder, "You know, as a joke."

"No, not as a joke...well at least not to you.  You'd have to be totally serious.  You'd have to seriously want to be her horsey to amuse or please her...for real!  You have to honestly want her to ride you.  You'd have to hope in your little-boy heart, that she'd want to ride you. Like, you'd be all happy and eager.  Like your life would be better if you could be of use to her as her pony. This should make you feel privileged.  Think: My Little Horsey. 

"You might be a joke to her, but you'd have to be serious.  But at least you'd get to be with her."  Michele knew it was important to stop letting Tim off the hook and she felt like a mother spoon feeding humiliation to her boy as the medicine she knew he needed. 

And oh my god, he needs this like so bad!  This boy needs to be brought down!  He needs to be brought down by me!

"Okay, I...I understand.  I'd...I'd be her...her horsey," he said in defeat.  Surrender did not feel so bad as he imagined Michele riding him.

Michele clapped her hands together in delight, laughing at the red faced boy.  Her whole body tingled.  Her nipples were so hard and ached wonderfully!  After calming down, she took a moment to assess her feelings since they were so new and intense.  She realized a sensation that was so strange in that she'd never felt such exhilaration, yet at the same time, she felt almost warm and cozy, like she was wrapped in the softest, snuggliest emotional blanket. 

"Oh! I've got one!"  

Just then, Michele felt more alive and more vibrant than she'd ever felt in her life.  She now savored the sensation she felt when she was crossing the line. 

Oh my god, it really is soooooooo much better over here! 

She was about to grab Tim and jump out of an airplane.  The fuselage door was cavernous and Tim just knew Michele wanted to push him out of it. 

The lead up was so exciting because they could both anticipate what was to come.  While she knew exactly what was about to happen, he knew only that he was about to be beaten by her.  And Michele loved a good beating. 

"As she visualized it, although considerably smaller than her boy, she was stronger than him in mind and body.  And his hard cock made him so weak, so utterly defenseless against her.  She was going to manhandle him and there was not a single substantive thing he could do about it. 

All he can do is struggle.  Poor boy.  Yes, yes, give me a little struggle.  Struggle and make it fun for me!