Chapter 2

Francine used a broom handle from where she was sitting to smack my balls and let me know my stance needed to be wider while I was at her feet near the table.

“Wide enough, your little cock and balls hang down and your ass cheeks must not touch – you can use your hands to pull them apart. You won’t be using them for eating.”

“Can you see my asshole when I am in this position? I thought that it was unpleasant to look at, Ma’am?” I felt so exposed and vulnerable with my legs parted and the butt plug pushing my cheeks apart. I had never done anything like this in my life. I was so nervous - it felt so strange.

I was literally showing a woman I barely knew my bottom. I thought I would just be cleaning her house. Francine clearly wanted to establish just how things would be done first.

“Does this seem like question-and-answer time to you, Jasper?” Francine didn’t answer my question. “Do not question what I wish to see and what I do not. Do you think that if my answer wasn’t to your liking that you would refuse to obey me?”

“No Ma’am,” I replied reluctantly.

“You have ten minutes to finish eating. I expect the entire bowl to be clean when your time is up and your face not to be a total mess. It should be obvious, but you are not to use your hands or silverware. You can eat like the dog you are. Any other questions, Jasper?”

“No Ma’am,” I replied with more certainty.

“Then you may eat, and if I ever HEAR you say ASSHOLE or any vulgarity around me again, I will shove this broom so far up yours that it comes out of your mouth. Is that understood?”

“Yes Ma’am!” I had already begun eating and was worried she’d punish me for speaking with my mouth full. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

Francine made it clear that cussing was fine for her to do but never acceptable for me. I rarely cussed, but I had seldom really had reason to do so. I was merely using the word Francine used for my bottom to reference it.

Francine told me to chew with my mouth closed and prodded me with the broom but otherwise left to me to eat. It was difficult – the human mouth is not designed to lap up food like a cat or a dog in a bowl. I had to get my face really into the bowl, and I knew the flavorless oats were stuck to my face. It was difficult to eat, but I was quite hungry. I was thirsty as well but thought better of interrupting meal time with an unprompted request for something to drink. I trusted that Francine would give me an opportunity to drink a glass of water.

I was more than surprised when she marched me out into her backyard on all fours at her heels. She sprayed my face with her garden hose and washed it clean – as she suggested I open my fat mouth and get a drink while I could. “Do not waste precious water on your vanity. Open wide, Jasper.”

I was also aware that Francine’s white picket fence was not high enough to afford us much privacy. There was every reason to believe that neighbors on either side and behind her house would be able to see me in this humiliating state. I could feel my cock getting hard inside the cage, and it hurt quite a bit. My balls had been throbbing from the spanking earlier. I wanted to say it hurt – but the throb was some mixture of pleasant and painfully uncomfortable.

I think that was by intention. Francine wasn’t cruel or sadistic. She used the ruler as a means of control and a reminder of my place. She introduced me to it, and while it hurt at first – I found myself frequently craving a fresh application of the ruler. When she wouldn’t give me a proper spanking on the balls – I found myself fantasizing about it.

“Look up at me, Jasper,” she said as I remained with my palms flat on the grass on my knees at her feet.

“What do you see?” she asked when she had my full attention.

“You, Ma’am?” I answered.

“As a stupid person, get a stupid answer. You see your owner for the weekend. I am the absolute authority this weekend. You do not question me. I question you. You do not make my life difficult or tedious. You are here to handle menial tasks and chores. I was once paid thousands of dollars by the wealthiest men to put them where you are now, and you are receiving this education simply because you are who you are. Do you understand how grateful you should be?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I mumbled. I wasn’t sure I agreed – I felt abject humiliation, and I was tempted to tell her off. Francine may have been a grandiose prostitute or whatever but I was reaching the end of my patience. I was doing this out of a sense of obligation to my wife and perhaps because, on some level, I enjoyed it. I didn’t feel I HAD to put up with her posturing over me and looking down her nose at me.

Something about it turned me on, though – I just didn’t know it at the time.

“You have not earned a collar, but you will wear one simply to make handling you easier,” she produced a leather collar with stainless studs out of the folds of her dress. She had clearly meant to bring it. She had a matching pink leash made of a scratchy type of rope that attached with a metal clip to the ring around the collar. I waited as she snapped it on my neck and locked it in place.

“How do I earn a collar?” I asked. There was something about the way Francine positioned making me do things to earn her respect that made me want to do them even if they were degrading – if only to raise my esteem in her eyes.

I know that may seem counter-intuitive since degrading myself would ordinarily be something that lowers the esteem others have for me. My mother-in-law had so much confidence and charisma that I felt it would be worth it in the end.

“Jasper, this may seem like a two-way conversation to you. You may be used to speaking when not spoken to at home. However, that is not how this works. You will save your questions until I have the patience and the desire to hear them. I am the one who is speaking now,” she said with a tremendously powerful charismatic sort of confidence. I truly felt powerless around her – despite this being all voluntary on my part.

The thing she told me to do next was the straw that I could not -would not tolerate. “Jasper, you have five minutes to shit and piss. You will do your nasty business on the lawn like a dog until you earn the right to squat over the toilet like a big boy,” she said condescendingly.

“Now wait just a minute,” I had cleaned and ironed her garments, I had let her swat my balls, I had even worn her butt plug, but I drew the line at doing my “nasty business” in front of her – especially on her lawn. It was still not dark, and anyone could walk outside and see me. I was determined not to put on another spectacle for those two teenage girls.

“Jasper, you accepted the collar. You admitted I am your authority. Now you defy me immediately after? What a confusing little twit,” she scoffed as if she was truly disappointed. The look on her face genuinely wounded me. I did not want her to look upon me that way – but I had to draw the line someplace, and squatting on her lawn was it!

I didn’t stand up. I could have. I could have probably grabbed my clothes and found a motel to stay until my wife could come pick me up, and we could discuss this outrageous scenario. I am one of the least confrontational people that you may ever meet, but I felt I had to put my foot down.

Francine produced a buck knife from the folds of her dress and opened it. I presumed she meant to stab me with it. It was small, and I doubted it would kill me but having gone through what I had so far, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she meant to cut me for my disobedience.

Instead, she bent over me and handed me the knife by the handle, and told me to cut a switch. “You know how to cut a proper switch, or must you be educated on that?”

I think I just crumbled at that point. I was resistant, but I hardly had the confidence to feel I could somehow turn the tables on Francine. I had willingly put on a collar like a house pet. I think the act had been somehow symbolic of my obsequious nature, and I felt like Francine was testing me. If I truly had any fight in me, I might have made a stink about cutting a switch. Instead, I did as I was told.

“Good boy,” she commented when I gently accepted the knife that was offered from her hand.

I had heard about “Switches” used to spank bratty kids in books like Tom Sawyer or Little House on the Prairie. I had never cut a switch or experienced what it felt like. Francine did have to educate me on how to select a good switch from her maple tree.

The tree was in the center of her yard and had many branches that were suitable as a switch. It was perhaps grown there for the express purpose of providing a ready implement for discipline.

Francine explained that making a switch involves cutting it from the stem and removing twigs or directly attached leaves. For optimal flexibility, it is cut fresh shortly before use, rather than keeping it for re-use over time. Cutting it oneself also allows the disciplined the distinct opportunity to reflect on the fact they are retrieving an implement that is going to be used on their most intimate parts to punish them.

She insisted on me grabbing my ankles and spreading my legs apart. I wasn’t limber enough to quite reach my ankles. Francine insisted that I practice and be ready to impress her next week. I hardly felt there would be a next week. I was going to beg my wife not to make me return. I wondered if she had any idea this would happen when she dropped me off. I wondered why she didn’t warn me first if she knew what her mother expected.

I assumed there was some good explanation for whatever my wife chose to do.

Francine didn’t give me much time to reflect. She began to swat my ass, and it was nothing like the ruler. This was 10X harder. The flexibility of the maple branch served to my detriment to wrap around my butt cheeks and sting me like a lash. If the branch had been hard, it may have broken. The give in the wood served to only increase my humiliation and pain.

“This is a maintenance beating, Jasper. You will receive these on a regular basis as needed to keep your male ego in check,” she explained while I counted. My face was as red as my ass, and I didn’t argue with her.

“How did it make you feel when I forbid you to use a potty like a big boy?” Francine asked dourly.

“You must be joking, Ma’am, Three!” I gasped.

“Don’t hold your breath. Lean into the swing and accept it. Good boy. Look at my face, Jasper. Get a good look. Do I look like someone who would joke with the likes of you?”

“No Ma’am, Four!”

“Do you think I am a comedian?”

“Owww, no Ma’am, Five!”

“Do you think I am some sort of clown that wastes her invaluable time amusing you?”