Saturday, January 30, 2016
Tie Me Chicago VII
I suppose when one is some 13 years of age, teens fully grown are by rote imbued with the esteem and respect of an adult. It’s more or less the blind leading the blind, one realizes upon reflection many years after the fact, but the hierarchy is ingrained.
And so I stand naked, my sister having ceded my supervision to her friend Eve, my mother having anointed Eve, empowered Eve, with this regimen intended to still my hyperactivity... and my annoying antics.
Hands on head, the bath tub slowly fills.
‘Damn Eve, get on with it,’ I think but dare not say, hands remaining atop my head.
“So now you’re quiet... a quiet little boy,” Eve badgers. “And I have yet to begin bathing you. Seems this is good for you, Matt. Your Mom plays bridge every Friday... so every Friday may become your bath day. After all, as you so often callously point out, I’m unlikely to have a date. So we’ll spend some time together. And you can show off for me,” her eyes shifting to rivet on my upstanding penis.
Yes, I am quiet, the humiliation intense and intensifying as the steamy water rises at such a frustratingly leisurely pace.
I am relieved when Eve finally turns away, uttering the command ‘stay’ and opening a cabinet. She searches, peering at various labeled bottles, then grasps one of purple, smiling.
“Bubble bath. Yours?” dangling the gaily colored liquid before me.
“My sister’s. It’s for girls.”
“Good. And now it will be for you,” releasing the cap. “Smells sweet. Just the thing to change your attitude,” the room indeed wafting with the scent of flowers.
“No,” my protest notably meek, standing naked before the fully clothed and well muscled girl in charge.
“Yes,” comes a very tranquil rejoinder as her arm extends, pouring gobs of purple soap into the bath water.
Eve smiles with my discomfort. Ironically my concern over the sweet scent is mitigated as I watch the rising bubbles. Covering... at last.
She stows the bubble bath then stoops, testing the water. She nods, suggesting the temperature meets approval.
“Step in,” the command coming with such sang-froid.
Yes, she enjoys. Is it my naked hairless form? My discomfort? My comeuppance? Probably all, I conclude.
As I move to step forward, I feel my stiff penis bob with my motion. This brings a giggle and another command.
“Cute. But hands on head, Matt. You needn’t touch yourself or move your arms.”
With that, I step into the warm sudsyness. It soothes... physically... and emotionally in knowing the blanket of foam offers covering. Eve gathers a wash cloth and bar of soap.
“I can wash myself,” beginning to lower to finally veil my nakedness.
“No, you will stand for me in the middle,” another command. “I’ll give you a thorough gentle scrub, then you can lay back for me, soak and soothe yourself. Be a good boy.”
I am. Why? Having spent weeks verbally tormenting the handsome giantess, I now find myself obsequiously compliant. What is happening?
And then my bath begins. And I better understand... what is happening. The touch of the Amazon is gentle... and caring... and comforting in its firmness. I am in her grasp, totally under her control. As the warm soapy cloth grazes my shoulders, swathing with tenderness, I sense goose bumps despite the heat. She smiles, noting my reaction.
“You see Matt, good little boys don’t need spankings. Instead I can be very nice to you,” the sweet scent for some reason no longer found objectionable.
I remain silent, immersed in her custody. For some reason my erect penis waggles. She giggles again, finding the moments to be equally joyous.
Rush hour traffic distracts me from my thoughts. Though close to my apartment my concentration diverts.