Veronica Pt. 01

I almost chocked on my toast when she walked into the dining room wearing a soft, extremely fluffy, cream-white angora cardigan, my pecker rising automatically with nothing more than that blurry haze prompting it. I shifted in my seat awkwardly, finding the pressure in my underpants and jeans a little uncomfortable.

"Morning," she said, moving in front of the bench with the breakfast items.

Veronica was around sixty, well-proportioned, probably 180cms tall, with short, grey hair, an angular face, intense, blue eyes, and clear, though noticeably rosy, complexion.

The cardigan was matched to a fine-knit, white mock turtleneck and knee-length woolen, pleated dark skirt and dark hose, her low-heeled shoes gleaming with polish. This morning's outfit confirmed the impression I'd gained from our handful of previous encounters -- she liked to dress conservatively, though in a stylish manner. I found the overall look and effect somewhat mesmerising.

"Oh hi, Veronica." This was my first morning here in her house as her new lodger.

"Everything fine for breakfast?"

"Oh yes, muesli and toast are just perfect. Thanks."

She pulled the seat out from the table opposite me and sat down. We chatted for a few minutes about our individual plans for the day, but I was completely distracted throughout, the proximity of all that fluffy softness too much -- the entire time I wanted to reach over and stroke the sleeve of her cardigan.

She stood up, wished me a fine day and headed up the hallway to her office. I hurriedly finished my breakfast and went back to my room. My pecker was aching; I needed to free it from its fluffy torment.

I tossed the box of tissues on to the bed, lay down, undid my zip and pulled it out, fixing my thoughts on Veronica in her gorgeous cardigan. I came within a minute. I lay there in revery, smiling to myself at discovering my new landlady looked like she was fond of angora.

****

I should never have done it; it was inexcusable, reprehensible. But despite knowing this, there I was, sneaking into her room barely 30 minutes after she left to go out for the night.

A shiver ran through me as I opened her wardrobe and took in her clothes. The cardigan hung there next to two others, one grey, the other navy blue, both also soft and fluffy. I pushed the neighbouring blouses aside and rang my hands across the two of them gently, savouring the feel and thinking how good it was going to be living here and seeing Veronica wearing them.

I took the cream one from its hanger, holding it out in front of me. I felt light-headed, even a little giddy, whether through adrenalin, fear or excitement, I didn't really know. I buried my face in its soft embrace, relishing the trace of the light scent she wore that day.

I stepped back from the wardrobe and lay the cardigan across the end of her floral bedspread and took a deep breath. I revelled in the moment, delighting in the way the light played across its little pearl buttons, then lent down and ran my fingers lightly over it, the incredible softness sending tingles through me. Heaven!

I undid my pants, letting them drop, lowered myself down in front of the fluffy wonder and sat back on my haunches, my gaze absorbed by the cardigan's magical effect. I pulled my hard, throbbing pecker out from my underpants and started stroking it, at first gently before excitement goaded me on.

I was jerking hard and almost on the edge of exploding when headlights flashed across the room through the gaps in the curtains and a car pulled up in the driveway - oh god, she's back! And with that frightening realisation, my cock spurted in huge pulsating gulps, me trying desperately to catch as much as I could in my hand but much of it falling on the carpet at the foot of the bed.

I rose hurriedly and rushed to put the cardigan back on its hanger and into the wardrobe, conscious I was getting plenty of my sticky gunk on it, cursing myself for not using the hanky instead of my hand.

"No, no, no!" I screamed to myself as I heard the front door open and her footsteps approach the room, the closet one to the front door. She entered just as I was trying to hang the cardigan back up.

"What!"

I turned to face her, blushing as she looked over at me in surprise. My pants were around my ankles, a hanky in one hand, the cardigan in the other, a gleam of cum on both, my diddle dribbling a long line of cum over her soft, lux carpet.

"Why you disgusting little pervert!"

I let the cardigan drop to the floor and started pulling my pants up, making my way towards the door. Just as I got beside her, she grabbed hold of my arm and twisted me around.

She took hold of my ear and twisted it, marching me back to the cardigan. She bent down and picked it up, my cum glaringly apparent over the fluffy sleeves and collar.

"My god, you sick, little pansy." She twisted my ear harder; I let out a squeal.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with. But you soon will."

"You aren't going anywhere, not yet. Keep your pants down, get to your room and wait for me. And be lying face down on the bed." Her twist increased and I grimaced. "Understand?"

"Yes, yes! Please, ahhh...it hurts!"

"It should." She pushed me out the door.

I stumbled towards my room, completely and utterly tormented. What the fuck had I just done!? I wanted a hole to open up and swallow me.

I got to my room and looked at my pecker, the cum wet, gathered along it, matting through my pubes, dribbles all across my upper thigh. I shook my head -- yet again, my love of women's knitwear had led me down a road of shame and self-loathing. I wiped my pecker head as best I could and lay down across the bed, my head cradled in my arms.

A few minutes later I heard her footsteps coming down the hall, towards my room. I shivered a little, my heart racing. The door opened. "Stay where you are." I dared not move.

"You're going to be punished, and it'll be one you won't forget, I can assure you of that. And then you're going to be learning some lessons on treating women with respect. That clear?"

I nodded my head.

"Good."

I felt a softness draped across my rear. I guessed it was the cream cardigan. "Like that, do you?" I didn't know what to say.

The soft brushing continued. "I asked a question."

I mumbled a soft. "Yes."

The garment was lifted off me. A swoosh cut through the air followed by a sharp explosion of terrible pain crashing across my rear. I cried out in agony. "One. I'm sure you didn't like that. Forty-nine to go."

Another cut followed; I howled in pain. I started to turn over. "Face back down!" she barked. I instantly obeyed. Another cut, then another. "Do not disobey me. You're already in serious trouble and I will not show the slightest hesitation in handing out further punishments if you don't do exactly what I tell you to do. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Another whack from the cane. "Yes!"

"Good. Five down. Forty-five to go."

She lifted my head and swaddled the cardigan around my face. She leaned into my left ear and said softly, "There. Something for you to think about as I take to your rear even harder." She stood back up. Another stroke blazed across my rear.

I was a sobbing, crying mess by the time she finished caning me, my rear afire and in dreadful pain, my thoughts soaked in despair, guilt, remorse.

"Right. Turn over."

I instantly obeyed. I felt her hand on my pecker. "This..." she shook it "...is never going to be disgusting in this house again."

I swallowed nervously, and deeply inhaled the fluffiness around my nostrils. She squeezed my cock hard, causing me to pull back and grimace.

"Diddums. Best get used to the idea you no longer have any say over what your diddle does in this house, what-so-ever, anymore. Understand?"

"Yes," I muffled through the angora.

"Yes, Ma'am. I want you to answer with "Yes, Ma'am" or "No, Ma'am," every time I ask you a question. Is that clear?"

"Yes." She squeezed my balls. "Ah! Yes, yes Ma'am!"

"That's better. Now, listen up. You have a thing for fluffy knitwear. Yes?"

No point pretending otherwise. "Yes...ah, yes, Ma'am."

"Well, I don't like perverts sneaking around wearing my knitwear." My balls were squeezed again, causing another yelp. "Please!"

"Quiet! You don't get any say in matters anymore. Not after what you've just done, you filthy, disgusting, weak-willed, faggot pansy-boy." Good thing I had the cardigan over my face as I felt myself blushing vividly.

"Now get to the bathroom and clean yourself up. Have a shower, scrub from head to toe, shave, brush your teeth and then report to me in the lounge room." She looked at her watch. "You have twenty minutes."

She removed the cardigan from my face; my eyes almost popped out of their head as I took in her fire-engine red angora cowlneck.

She sensed my surprise. "Don't do anything stupid in the bathroom, you little sicko. Or else."

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, lowering my gaze from her intense glare.

"Leave the bathroom door open."

"Yes, Ma'am." I took my shoes off and pulled my pants away then scampered from the room, in pain and discomfort but with images of red angora bouncing around in my thoughts...

To be continued....