The Perfect Beginning

Almost gently, she manhandled him toward the gaping door.  Slowly, and with a smile, she herded him closer to the inevitable fall.  She intimidated him.  Michele could feel it and and she savored it; she intimidated him on a fundamental, spiritual level.  Though he was the size of a man, he was as easy to handle as a seven year old boy:

...who's in love with his babysitter! 

It was intoxicating and utterly beautiful.  He was obviously terrified of what she was going to do to him.  As she manhandled him:

Is baby boy just a little bit a-scared?

...she offered with mock concern and then a smile.  She showed him just how happy scaring him made her and this scared him even more. 

How joyous, how delightful! 

She touched him, held him, smiled at him, all the while, she walked him with a firm, feminine might as she forced him closer to his doom.  He'd pull away a little, just a little fun resistance, but she'd hold on and redirect him.

In her imagining, she liked that he resisted as exercising her physical power over him made him all the more frightened and psychologically defeated.  She was so much smaller than he was but so much stronger than him.   He was just a little boy to her.  

She imagined the value of wielding the prospect of pain compliance. 

Like getting to pinch and slap him!  Fear me.  Oh my!

Are you scared, baby-boy?  

Y...yes.  

Good! she responded smilingly and as though praising a toddler she adored. 

They'd both ride the hottest rush.

But my poor, poor, baby-boy isn't wearing a parachute.  He didn't put his on.  Poor boy.

Her perception, from within her own mind and body to everything within her myopic focus was so amazingly acute.  

It was then that she saw herself as not just the seductress, but also the killer. 

I'm killing a part of him.  I'm killing the fighter within him. 

With this realization, she had a small orgasm.

Her eyes widened and a hint of a smile played on her face with the anticipation and delivery.  "And before you say anything, just listen to the whole thing.  Would you let a girl, one you really, really cared about and loved, one you'd do anything for, would you let her slap you? 

"Now before you answer, know that it's not like abuse or anything bad.  Of course you would not allow that. We both know that.  You are not self-destructive or into abuse.  This would be healthy. 

"First of all, you love her more than anything.  You knew she slapped you because it was for your own good, like you totally needed it or something.  You did something to totally deserve it and accepting it would make everything right." 

Suddenly inspired, "In a way, it's like a gift from her because it makes everything okay again and helped to fix what you messed up so badly. Like, you said something that totally put her in a mood." Michele broke into a beautiful, sunshine smile with the vision of it. 

Oh, I'd like to make things right!

"Or because you knew it was the only thing you could do for this special, special girl that would make her truly happy.  And you both know she's dating a sissy so you sorta owe it to her."  With clear distain, "You know, for like being the way you are."

"Make her 'happy'?" he asked, bewildered.  "How would that make her happy?"

With disgusted disbelief, "Really?"  

Apparently this was a stupid question.  

"Okay, like say she's had a bad day and comes home and her boy starts irritating her.  He's not being bad or anything, it's just that she's in a mood and he says something irritating like: hello.  Or anything.  The point is that she's in a mood, he's not paying attention to it, and she needs an outlet. Like too bad for him because he should have been more sensitive to how she felt."

I'm expected to just know? Like, before we even talk at all?

There was a great deal of peril built into the sort of relationship he was beginning to believe he might belong in.

Like, as a sissy boyfriend, at least.

"Like, he should have known. You know, if he's really in love with her, he'd be paying attention. It's obviously his fault because he triggered her. A boy like you had better watch his step.

"Or maybe she's in a great mood but just wants to.  She loves it because it's one special thing that is so unique to them.  It's what she has that almost no other girls have.  It would make her feel special. That, getting to slap her boy would be like having the nicest house on the block. She'd feel like she stood out from all the other ordinary girls.

"And she should have it when you consider she's with a sissy. Having this makes being with a sissy worth it. Like, it's the trade off. If she were with a sissy and didn't get to do this, she'd leave you... like Tiff did. Whenever she does this and he lets her, she cares about him more. 

"He lowers all his defenses and they share this pretty, sweet, personal thing.  Oh my god, she'd go from great mood to the best mood!  Trust me, it would be good for your relationship."

She said in a voice bathed in care and affection and sweet honey, "It would be like your special, little thing, your pretty little secret.  She'd give you what you need so badly when you two were alone in her house, where it was just you and her.  Goodness, the more I think about it, the prettier I think it is!  My, my.  And only you two would know about it. Nobody else...and I'd promise not to tell anybody. I'd be our secret" she said quietly.

Right then he wanted to share a secret with Michele more than anything in the world. 

Only we'd know.

She pushed him through the threshold and they were battered in a thrill of wind.  They fell together, embracing one another.  He needed her and clung to her as though his life depended on it.  As they fell, she kissed him.  The ground was so far below, neither could even see it, even as each realized it was rushing up at tremendous speed to take their lives. 

Of course Michele had a feeling she'd survive but was less certain about her precious boy.

Wait...does that make Michele the girlfriend?

It all seemed so surreal to him.  He knew that if he ever had a girlfriend who did this to him, he'd have to tell Michele.  He knew that would never happen but if it did, he'd have to report it to her because she'd want to know.  Making Michele happy was important. She'd keep the secret and he was sure they'd be able to laugh about it. He'd be her good sport.

This of course meant Tim knew immediately that he would, he'd do it, let a girl slap him, and it made him feel like he was falling. 

It didn't make sense so he didn't know why he'd ever allow this.  Seeing how excited and happy the idea made Michele made him want to let a girl do this to him...to let Michele do it to him.  He could feel his cock actually throbbing and he knew he'd let her, but he could not quite bring himself to say it.  It was so wrong.  So very, very, fundamentally wrong.  And to actually take a slap to the face would be scary. He could actually imagine Michele smiling as she slapped him  He knew it would be worth it.

"Oh my god, I'd love it if you would.  It would mean so much to me and it would make her such a Princess. 

"It's so intimate.  Just between us.  So pretty.  I know there are girls who would feel soooooooo special and so loved if she could do that to her boy. 

"And like, not all the time," she added to make it reasonable.  "Just when he needed it or it was special gift they got to open together."  Thinking on it further, she said thoughtfully, "Or maybe it would be kind of a lot, but for play and intimacy.  It's bonding, you know, like kissing. It could be very fun."

Wait, did she say, 'me?' 

Tim wanted to tell her but...but what did that say about him?  What kind of man let a girl slap him around? 

A pussy whipped, little bitch, that's who.

"And remember, it's totally not like abuse or anything bad like that.  It's just what's best for him and the relationship.  For them, it's a good thing.  I think it's beautiful and lovely; like, in some ways, even romantic. 

"Remember, she cares about him and knows what he needs.  Remember, it's their pretty secret and he is totally, one hundred percent safe with her.  Believe it or not, it's even one of the ways she shows him how much she cares for him.  Like she wouldn't do it if she didn't care, obviously.

"It's all about love...and love is good and beautiful.  God says we should always come down on the side of love."  And with a second to really feel the idea out, "And I bet that once you knew how much it meant to her, how happy it made her, you'd come to actually want her to do it."  

That's when Tim knew for sure that despite the fear of it all and the inherent wrongness he felt about the prospect of being on the receiving end of regular bitch slappings, a part of him already wanted Michele to bring this into their strange, complicated and wonderful relationship. 

She can read my mind.

"And you could feel proud, you could feel good about yourself that you did this for her and that it made her totally happy!  It can't be easy for a sissy to find something to be proud about in a relationship. And I know it would make her care more about you."  With a tone and expression that boarded on concern, "You do want what's best for the relationship don't you?  I mean, you do want to make her happy, right? " 

As they fall together, her arms wrap around him and her tongue finds his beautiful mouth.  Until now, he fought feebly against her.  Yet now with them falling, she feels him give into her, surrendering to her and giving himself to her.  As he is wrapped in her arms, she actually feels him snuggle into her as they fall.  Michele feels the goosebumps rise all over her hard, little body as the wind rushes fiercely, fluidly over their skin.

Tim sat before her mesmerized.  What she said made no sense at all, yet it made perfect sense.  He wondered how Michele could make this all seem so reasonable.  It was never more clear to him that he was now living in an alternate reality.

Tim was stupefied.  He knew he'd let her slap him, but he could make no sense out of it.  And by not admitting it, he almost felt like he was letting Michele down or disappointing her.  But it was so shameful, how could he admit it?

Stopping for a moment to gather herself, she put her hands on his shoulders.  She wanted to look deep into his soul as she gave him her most solemn advice and as though proffering wisdom to her younger girlfriend about how to behave with a boy on her first big and important date, "Oh my god, I really think you should do this.  It's so  important." 

Tim could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice, Michele really wanted to help and he felt so close to her. 

"You don't want her to leave you do you?"  

"No," he sounded almost scared.  No he did not!  He never wanted this intimacy to end!  Tim felt a sense of real anxiety with this.  He felt he was glimmering in and out of one world and into another.  He could not put his finger on who he was so terribly disappointing. Whom exactly was he letting down?  What girlfriend was going to break up with him?  For this to work, he had to imagine her but when he did, it was Michele.  

"If you can't be like... a real man, you have to give to her in other ways.  It's going to be challenging, but there are ways you just might keep your next girlfriend.  Sissies don't have what real men have, Timmy" she said with care and kindness.

"You need to be true to who you are and make the most out of it.  She's only going to love you if you are honest with yourself and honest with her. 

"And she's doing this for you too. Like it really is for your own good and she wouldn't take the time to do it if she did not care about you.

"You don't want to lose the next one too."  She almost sounded sad for him.  Michele leaned in and put both of her hands over his and looked him deep in the eyes and said in a very serious tone, "And just know, I would totally love it if you said, yes.  I'd respect your honesty."

Honesty?  Does she somehow already know that I would?  Michele knows! 

He felt utterly transparent and knew that with Michele, there was nowhere to hide.

His chest was so tight and his head was dizzy with what he was about to admit, but her warm hands calmed and reassured him. "Yeah, I'd let her...if...if nobody else would know."

Breaking from their kiss, she saw the need, the desperately, dependent need on his face. 

He won't survive without me and he knows it! 

She smiled warmly and pulled her rip-cord.  As she floated slowly to the ground, she felt so good and so peaceful.  She felt like she'd just had the biggest, greatest orgasm of her life.  She felt so much better when she thought about how he was still falling. 

Here comes that big, old, hard ground.  Oh my, those rocks look so big and sharp.  Then again, maybe he's going so fast, he catches on fire before hitting the rocks. 

Michele liked floating.

Michele tingled all over.  She was so alive.  Once more Michele's face broke into the warmest smile, her beautiful face only inches from Tim's.  "Oh my god, that is sooooooo hot!  I can just imagine taking you behind the P.E. office to slap you around." 

Tim then saw them too as they walked the short corridor between the girl's locker room and the girls' P.E. office Desmond Pip Over School.  They turned right, along the back of the office to find one other couple making out.  He could go no further with it.   Tim was fully aware that it was behind the P.E. office at the over-school where kids went to make out during lunch break.  It was for their semi-private sexual encounters, or what passed for echelon 16, school sex. 

Tim thought it was kind of interesting that of all places, she chose behind the P.E. office.  More interesting, he knew in his bones how appropriate it was.  And she said she could imagine it was Michele slapping him!  This actually made him feel safe. 

Because she'd care about me when she did it.

And he longed for her care.

God, I really am a Kimberly!  I really am a sissy!

"God, that's totally hot!" said Michele with no concern that that was the sort of sexual reference that guys usually made about girls they wanted to have sex with.  "And don't worry, we'd only do it when nobody else was there...it would be our private thing!"  And there they were in their imaginations behind the P.E. office.  "SLAP, SLAP, SLAP!" came her happy chant.  "God, I love it!"  The notion was invigorating and she was not even trying to hide her predatory hunger.

Tim felt fear, arousal, submission and profound attraction. Had she closed those last few inches and kissed Tim on the lips, he'd have let her and longed for more.  

At that moment, she was not sure which she wanted more: to to slap Tim or cum.  She was not quite sure what the difference was.  In this moment, they were together; this disclosure held true intimacy for them.

Still holding his wrists, "Now I've got a big treat for you.  Tonight you get to clean our bathroom.  From now on, I'm going to let you do it two or three times a week."  

"Do I have to?" asked in Michele's favorite soft, little, submissive-boy voice.  Tim loved knowing he "had to."  It was his special permission to do the unthinkable, to obey a girl.

Confidently, "Yeah...you have to.  If you don't...you might get a slap down.  I'm just kidding."  She wasn't just kidding, not really.  Oh, she wanted to slap him but they were not ready for that...yet; they'd not come quite far enough in their relationship for that.  Michele was just taking the idea out for a test drive to see how it felt.  It sounded very good and felt even better.

"Okay," he said softly while smiling at Michele's joke about slapping him.  The idea that she'd want to slap him made him feel sensuous and alluring. 

What the fuck!

"Oh, I know, here..."  Michele stood up and looking down at Tim, "get down on your hands and knees."  When she saw his confused expression, she spoke with absolute authority and the front edge of anger, "Just do it...now!

Then just as quickly back to little girl happy, "I want a horsey ride."  

As she began straddling him, "What?  Maybe we..."

"Quiet!" she demanded as a well spoiled girl of elite privilege.  "Ponies don't talk!  I'm your Princess and you have to do as I say."  And that was it, it was out of his hands.  They were playing their game...just a fun, little kids game.

The Game, justified anything.

While still standing over him, she began petting him; she pet his head, face, shoulders and back.  In her life, she'd never wanted to touch a boy's butt until that moment. "Good horsey."  

It was humiliating but it was just a game.  It was humiliating but still felt good. Her hands felt wonderful on his head, neck and shoulders.  He especially liked when she touched his face and closed his eyes to receive her pet.  He liked the sense of vulnerability and how it made him feel close to her.  And he liked being called a good horsey.  Now, he really wanted to be her pony.  He remembered, "No, not as a joke...well at least not to you...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."  And he did.

And he knew he always wanted to be "good" for her.

Mounting him, "To the bathroom," she commanded her horsey. 

God, it feels good riding him! 

She was glad it was a short ride because she could feel herself getting really wet.  She wanted to hook her fingers into the corners of his mouth and steer him as though he were wearing a bridle and bit. 

That would be so fun!  Maybe one day. 

Instead, she snaked her fingers through his thick hair and steered him by his head. 

What girl doesn't want her own pony? she thought with a smile.

On the way, she saw them both in the full length mirror.  "Stop."  Spying herself and her horsey, she roughly pushed his head down, "Look at the floor.  Close your eyes." 

Michele admired the image of herself and realized she looked regal.  She sat up as straight as she could and on a whim, bent her knees and pulled her feet up behind her, resting them on Tim's butt.  If before she looked regal, she now looked like some sort of sexy, teen Pony Queen.  She could not get over how sexy she felt and looked.  Her boy was between her legs, her heels were together but her knees were splayed wide around him, and her small hard nipples were thrust outward and upward. 

She knew she looked really good in her tiny shorts and skin tight T.  And then it dawned on her as she peered into the mirror at Tim's horsey cock, bulging at his jeans, that "sexy" was whatever you were doing when you were turned on and turning on your partner.  If you were turned on and making his cock hard, well then you were sexy.  Michele thought right then that she had never thought she'd looked more beautiful than she did at that moment. 

And Damn, I'm sexy!  I can make him do things...

"Look up," she said with command.  "Look at me in the mirror."  Immediately switching to her flirty, little girl voice, "Do you think I look pretty?"

Tim was speechless.  He was at once slammed by two realizations.  Actually seeing what they were doing, seeing it objectively, totally blew his mind.  It was so wrong and so right. 

I'm totally turned on and she's riding me like a horse...like Her horse...like her horsey. 

He was supposed to be babysitting this girl and instead, he thought of himself as her sex pony. 

And with that vision was one that deserved its own stage: Michele.  Although so young, he'd never taken in a vision of greater beauty and sheer sexuality.  She was like this porn star, succubus, sex goddess-girl. 

His mouth literally hung open as he was rendered speechless.  In that moment, on his back, riding him, mounted the way she was with her back arched and her legs splayed, balanced in an almost delicate way, he could register three things that totally overwhelmed him: beauty, sex and power.