It's
Not Fair - Peter's Letter
By Mike
Ploog
mikeploog_81@yahoo.de
Copyright 2017, all rights reserved
* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions
of sexual activity
involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to
view such material or
if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do
not save this
story.
* * * * *
This story is set in
the Puericil
Universe.
This is one of the
letters to the "It’s
Not Fair!"
column, in "Boy Stuff" magazine. In them, boys complain about
how little privacy they are allowed, and about the double standard that
makes
it OK for people to see them naked but protects girls’ modesty. Because
of its length and more edgy nature, it is published as a standalone.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Letter published in the It’s
Not Fair section of the magazine called Boy Stuff:
(this
letter has been written by Mike
Ploog
The response is by Cassie. The letter is published as originally sent.
Before being published in the all ages magazine, some of the more
sexual descriptions were slightly toned down. The request not to be
called Petey was however published as is)
(You can read Peter's previous letter in INF 14
and INF 34)
Peter (age 18)
Dear It’s not Fair,
It’s me, Peter, again. First
of all, many thanks for answering my letter and giving me valuable
advice, but
there’s one modest little request I have and DON’T want to be
published!!!
PLEASE don’t call me “Petey”!
That’s how my mom always calls me and it makes me feel like a little
kid each
time. You know, I’m already 18 years old, so I’d really prefer being
addressed
as “Peter”. Could you please do that for me?
It’s also because I’ve heard that there are a lot of girls
who read the
Boy Stuff-magazine too and it embarrasses me a bit if they read this
childish
nickname.
I remember you wrote
that I am too immature to have a girlfriend yet. Even though, my secret
hope is
that maybe some girl may like me and send a love letter to your
magazine. But
Psst! ;-)
In your response-letter
you told me to improve my behavior by showing more respect to Madame
and the
girls and listen to what they tell me. You also told me to be more
thankful and
not to complain that much about my tasks and expected me to be obedient. Believe me, I really do
my best to follow your valuable instructions because I don’t want be
treated
like a toddler anymore! I’m now constantly trying to be a well-behaved
and
modest boy. But actually, in some particular cases it’s not that easy
for me to
do as I still have to stand so many unbearable situations!
Let me tell you what
happened on the last weekend when Madame went for the trip to her
friend. She
already left on Friday afternoon and announced that she’d come back on
late
Sunday.
First of all, you should
know that Miss Valery was agreed to go on a three-week holiday camp for
youths.
The camp started on Saturday, so I had to spend most of the weekend
with Miss Monica
only (and her boyfriend Nick, of course!).
The first evening with
me and the girls was quite uneventful. As part of my daily routine I
had to
take my bedtime bath with young Miss Valery monitoring me (b.t.w.: she
does not
“wash my peenie” as you falsely accepted, but she always watches and
instructs
me and when I step out of the tube she’s doing a strict and thoroughly
cleaning-check of each part of my body which is embarrassing enough!).
Considering your advice,
I was ambitious to behave the best I could and to leave a good
impression to
the girls. I really did not want to give them ANY reason to make them
angry or
even to punish me!
So for the following day
I had set my alarm clock extra early to clean and polish the girl’s
shoes in
the morning which was meant as a kind of “surprise present”.
My, that was really a
tough job! For nearly two hours I worked on two dozen pairs of several
sneakers, pumps, high-heels and leather boots. Afterwards, I quickly
started to
set the kitchen-table and prepared an extensive breakfast for the young
ladies.
When the girls came up
(it was already half past nine then) I greeted them with an extra deep
bow.
Both were still quite sleepy but when they recognized the lovely
prepared
breakfast table and smelled the warm coffee plus the backed buns their
eyes
literally beamed! I can tell you, they were REALLY satisfied with what
they
saw. After we had enjoyed a lavish morning meal and I was administered
my first
Puericil pill of the day, I proudly announced that “there is a special
surprise
for you waiting in the door hall”.
When I presented them
their freshly cleaned footwear, the girl’s reaction was a bit less
enthusiastic
than I hoped for. Of course, they were pleased but after Miss Monica
had
examined my efforts with critical eyes she shook her head yes and said
“Good
job, boy. But I if you hadn’t done it voluntarily I would have ordered
you to
clean them anyway as it was part of your weekend tasks.” She then
smiled and
added: “Well, at
least you now have more
capacities left for other chores, starting with cleaning up the
kitchen.”
I can’t tell you how
frustrated I was! All my efforts were obviously in vain!
Fortunately, Miss Valery
was a bit more thankful. I was really kind of proud when she praised me
and
said it was “a nice idea to have my footwear cleaned for the summer
camp.” She
even helped me out with washing the dishes (which was normally not her
duty).
As I stood next to her in the kitchen we actually had a nice little
chat. She
told me about her future plans and that she wanted to study and become
a
Doctor. I was really astonished how confident and mature this young
girl
already is. At this particular moment I thought she was probably the
family
member I best get along with (apart from the humiliating bathing
ceremony of
course!). I was even a bit sad that she was going away for her holiday
camp and
would leave me alone with her moody sister. However, I’m sorry to say
that my
feelings of affection were quite short-lived!
Let me tell you why:
Half an hour later Miss Valery was finally ready for her departure to
the camp.
Needless to say that I was expected to drag her luggage down the stairs
and
carry it to the driveway where she would be picked up by a friend of
her whose
mother would drive the girls to the camp. And man, did she have an
awful amount
of luggage to travel with! I literally felt like a Sherpa as I had to
struggle
with a huge suitcase and three fully packed bags. You wouldn’t believe
how
heavy just her cosmetics bag was! How can it be that such a young girl
already
owns such a load of “women’s essentials”?
And to my dismay she even urged me to “Hush! Hush! Don’t
be so sluggish,
boy! We’re late!”
Eventually, me and the
siblings were waiting in the driveway until a roaring car arrived – it
was actually
a Porsche Cayenne! – and a young girl with red colored hair jumped out
to
happily embrace Miss Valery. Her name is Ginger (she’s one year older
than
Valery) and she is Madame’s younger daughter’s best girl buddy. As
Ginger and
her family live in another town a good hundred miles away from us, both
girls
haven’t seen each other for a longer time so the whole welcome-scenario
was
quite enthusiastic. Lots of “missed you!”, “How are you!”, “You look
great!”
and “blah blah!”
I expected her mother to
get out of the car too, but she kept sitting on the driver’s seat all
the time,
busily talking to someone on her phone.
As it turned out, this
eleven year old rich kid, Ginger, got dressed like a real bitch! She
was
wearing a tight tank top showing off her bust which was quite big. I
also
remember that the top was labeled “Size Matters” written in big
letters. How
weird is that? Underneath,
she had on a
skimpy pair of snow white hotpants imprinted with a strange black
bunny-head
wearing a bow-tie. On the other hand she didn’t spare her thick red
lickstip.
She also had her belly-button, her nose and even her lip (!) pierced. I
was
really disconcerted by her offensive style and I didn’t like that girl
at first
view!
But the biggest shock
(for me!) was yet to come. Let me tell you what happened: After Ginger
had
cheerfully greeted Miss Monica (same style…”Howdy
Nica!”… “Heard about your hot new boy friend”… typical
girl’s chit-chat)
the lively young girl approached me, beaming “…and he must be this
funny Puericil
boy Val told me so much about!”
Well, as I always try to
show my best manners I instinctively bowed before the young Miss and
reached
out my hand to her. But what did this sassy chick do? Instead of
shaking my
offered hand she simply grabbed straight between my legs and probed my
genitals! Can you believe that?!
On that day, I was only
wearing light tennis shorts so I felt every bit of her ungentle touch
through
the thin material, even the big rings on her fingers.
I still remember how I
groaned from the sudden shock and the searing pain her searching hand
caused to
my testies (they’re always extremely tender after I’d taken a Puericil
pill!). But before
I was able to
comprehend what just had happened and react, the shameless girl quickly
withdrew her hand. She then looked at Miss Valery and formed a wicked
smile.
“You were right, Val. He’s fucking tiny! I almost felt nothing.”
And as she faced me
again, the little bitch had the nerve to ask me “Do you even HAVE a
dick, bro?
Or are you actually a girl, huh?”
Being highly abased, I
was nothing but speechless, so Miss Valery took the initiative.
“Come
on, don’t be so rude to him, Gingy. Look
how he’s blushing now. I assure you: He really IS a boy!” She then made
this
tiny dick sign with her fingers and added. “A VERY small one, of
course!”
Needless to add, that
they all started to laugh about her humiliating comment. That was SO
MEAN! But
what should I have said? At that moment, I felt so defenseless and let
it all
happen.
Eventually,
Ginger’s mom interrupted the gathering,
calling “Hurry up, girls! We’re late!” so I quickly heaved Miss
Valery’s
luggage into the trunk and without saying a word I went back into the
house,
holding back my tears of shame and anger. The last thing I remember was
Ginger
blowing a fake kiss at me shouting: “Don’t be so touchy, sweetie. When
we’re
back, Auntie Val’s gonna show me your little birdie, okay? Maybe it
will grow a
bit till then!”
Thinking back about this
encounter with mean Ginger still makes me feel upset. Christ, I never
ever want
to meet this nasty little slut again who made such a fool out of me. I
wish I’d
had the guts to slap her in the face to teach her some respect! I mean,
didn’t
she just deserve it for hassling me like that?
Back in the house, I
really had a hard time to concentrate on my studies I was being
burdened by
Madame. You know…History, Math, French, Biology and all this stuff.
It was arranged that
Miss Monica would check the results after my learning time so she sat
down next
to me and reviewed my progresses. Christ, this was so embarrassing! The
15 year
old asked me dozens of questions on my current tutorials and I have to
admit
that she was so much smarter than me. May it be a complicated Math
calculation
I couldn’t handle…she corrected me and knew the solution, may it be a
long
translation into French I had to struggle with …she corrected me and
spoke it
right out in perfect French…may it be questions about History… she knew
each
fact I forgot. I really felt like a dumb little school boy and was
amazed at
her unbelievable knowledge. But the worst thing was: Miss Monica seemed
to be
awfully bored all the time and ridiculed me for my evident
shortcomings. After
about an hour she decided that “we’d better end this now, little
stupid.”
Of course, I really
don’t like it when Miss Monica calls me a stupid, but I swallowed my
anger,
bowed my head in shame and thinking about your advice not to complain
about
everything I nodded “Yes. I’m sorry, Miss Monica.”
At least, my supervisor
was so kind to allow me a little spare-time then. But that didn’t last
for
long! Just a few minutes later, the doorbell rang and she stormed to
the
entrance door. It was Nick! Guess you remember that her boyfriend was
allowed
to stay overnight during the weekend to support
Miss Monica monitoring
me. They chatted for a while in the doorframe, obviously discussing
something.
Well, I quickly learned what it was about.
“Peter! Come over here!
We have a little job for you to do!” In an instant I ran to the door to
meet
the couple who was standing in the driveway next to Nick’s car. It
turned out
to be his father’s big pickup truck which he was allowed drive for the
weekend.
Anyway, Miss Monica came straightforward to the point and explained “To
make
amends for hurting little Billy you are now going to wash and clean
Nick’s
car.” I looked at the big truck which was covered with grime and stains
all
over and turned my head to Nick. He can’t be serious, I thought to
myself!
Hadn’t
I been punished enough
for my outburst at the beach?!
But Nick just smiled and
shrugged his shoulders “Don’t look at me, dude. It was Monica’s idea.
Actually,
a quite good one, as my dad’s car really needs a good washing. So you’d
better
do what my girl says, little troublemaker.” That was so unfair!
But anyway, fate must be
obeyed and so Miss Monica didn’t wait to give me some detailed
instructions.
“First you gonna use the hose to wash down all the dirt from the car
and the
tires. Then you take a big sponge and polish it until it shines like a
diamond.
Then you gotta clean the interior with the Hoover and you also clean
the inner
windows. You can find the needed items in the garage. As you know,
there’s a
water supply, too. While you are busy with the car, we will spend some
time at
the pool. And you, Peter, are NOT gonna disturb us for a second! Your
place is
here in the driveway. I don’t want you in the house until we’re back to
check
the car. Got that?!”
“And, by the way: Before
you get started, I want you to remove your shirt and your socks. You
will work
in your shorts only, cos this is quite a dirty job and it gonna gets
hot as
hell within the next hours.”
I really don’t want to
bore you with each detail of my cleaning job. All I can say is that it
took me
an awful amount of time and the fact that I still I
haven’t
adapted to the daily hot climate here in the South didn’t make it any
better.
After about two hours I eventually found that the car was clean enough.
But at
that time I was SO thirsty and yearned for a cold soda. I guess you
would say:
Why didn’t you drink from the water hose source? No way! You can’t
imagine how
awful it tastes!
So
here’s when I obviously committed a fateful mistake. Feeling the urge
to
quench my thirst with a cold drink from the refrigerator I secretly
stepped
into the house. Doing this, my heart was beating like crazy and I
prayed to god
that Miss Monica and Nick wouldn’t notice my prohibited disappearance.
You must
know that I have to pass the big living room to get into the kitchen.
That was
a real challenge because behind its big windows you can see the
adjoining
terrace and the pool. Though the outer windows are barely see-through
in the
late afternoon, I ducked down on all fours and slowly crawled over the
big
carpet – just as a precaution. That’s when I became a bit curious and
took a
little peek through that very window. And what I saw out there quickly
got my
attention: Dressed in bathing clothes, Miss Monica and Nick were
standing in
the pool caressing and kissing each other. For a little while, I
secretly
observed them… until my thirst for a drink gained the upper hand.
I quickly opened the
refrigerator, took out one of the small bottles of ice-cold soda and
emptied it
in one long and greedy gulp. Still being thirsty, I fetched a second
soda… then
a third… and a fourth one. When I finally crawled back I urged myself
not to
look through the window again. But to no avail. I just HAD to do it!
You wouldn’t believe
what I saw then! Now, Nick was sitting on the opposite
pool edge with his lower legs dangling in the water. And Jesus, Miss
Monica was
squatting between his wide opened thighs! At first, I couldn’t
precisely make
out what was going on there but Miss Monica was eagerly moving her head
up and
down on Nick’s midsection. OMG, what were they doing there? Then it
struck me!
She must have had his
penis in her mouth!!! O my god!
They did “adult stuff”, didn’t they? [Note from the editor: this description was slightly toned down for publiscation in the magazine]
In no time, my own
peenie started to rise as I observed them. Jesus, Miss Monica was also
playing
her hands between Nick’s legs. I simply couldn’t keep my curious eyes
from this
hot scene and guided my hand into my waistband to play with my stiffie.
I
remember I was feeling a mixture of arousal and envy imagining how it
might
feel if beautiful Miss Monica would do this to ME! If she would caress
ME down
there…
Suddenly, Nick turned
his head up at my direction! It was only for a quick moment, but long
enough to
scare me to death. Did he notice me?! No, that must have been
impossible. I
simply was too far away and the windows… you know, they reflect the
light. But
better being careful, I slowly hid behind the big sofa and with weak
knees I
quickly hurried back outside.
Shortly after, I was
sitting and waiting in the pickup admiring the car’s highly modern
center
console with its countless control knobs. You have to know that I SO
MUCH want
to drive such a cool car by my own. I guess you’ve heard about this
stupid law
prohibiting boys to own a driving license as long as they are on
Puericil – no
matter how old they actually are. Why is life so unfair?! Madame
doesn’t even
allow me to sit on the passenger seat when we’re making a trip with her
sedan.
No, my place is always the backseat behind Miss Monica or even young
Miss
Valery!
So I proudly enthroned in
the driver’s seat gripping the wheel daydreaming about being an adult…
until
the “real” adults finally returned.
As Miss Monica had
changed clothes now, wearing denim shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, big
strong
Nick was still clad in his wet bathing trunks only. Again, I couldn’t
help but
glimpse at his revealing tight white Speedos envying his massive
package. Christ,
compared to me he’s so HUGE down
there …though he’s only 16, two years younger than me, you remember?
That’s not
fair!
However, the REAL
trouble began when Miss Monica told me to “get out of the car” and
started to
check the vehicle thoroughly. Of course, the moody girl was critical as
ever.
It didn’t take long until she spotted some trivial discolorations on
the
interior floor and blamed me. “You’ve been a bit sloppy here, boy.” She
then
looked at her boyfriend, questioning: “If you ask me, we cannot let him
get
away with this. What do you think?” I was really relieved when Nick
took my
part as he surrounded his pickup. “Come on, honey. Don’t be so
nitpicky. I
think he did his very best….to me the car looks perfectly clean now.
I’m sure
my dad won’t even recognize it when I’m back.” Saying this, he even
smiled and
blinked at me! I can’t tell you how proud he made me for that!
At this point, I had
already forgotten my daring little observation time and was hoping for
a more
stress-free time to come… until Miss Monica once again faced me with
her
sinister brown eyes. “Ok, boy. You may have done your work here
properly but
there’s something else I’d like to talk to you in earnest.” Christ, my
heart
already started to beat like crazy in dark foreboding. And then she
casually-like asked me: “Did you secretly watch us, Peter? Nick told me
he
possibly saw someone moving behind the window when we were in the pool.”
I just stammered. “No! I
swear I’ve been here all the time, Miss Monica. Believe me!”
Much to my relief, Nick
defended me once again “You know, I really wasn’t sure, honey. Maybe it
was a
delusion. Just forget about it.”
But Miss Monica… she was
nothing but leery of me.
“Hmm… I donno. I’d
better make sure he didn’t lie and check the rooms. And if I find ANY
traces
that betray you, Peter, then trust me, you REALLY gonna git it from me!”
She then looked at Nick
and told him to “Please take him to the pool, honey. He badly needs to
take a
shower. He’s all sweaty and he stinks awfully! I’m back in a minute.”
As Nick guided me to the
hateful outdoor shower I just hung my head listening to his warning.
“Let’s hope you told her
the truth cos if not you’ll be in BIG TROUBLE, dude!”
Suddenly, my mind went
crazy. O my god! The empty soda bottles! Did I leave them on the
kitchen table?
I prayed to god that I’d had thrown them away, but…I wasn’t sure!
Just a few moments
later, Nick ordered me to strip out of my tennis shorts and to “hop
under the
shower, cowboy!” I guess you may think that I somehow must have gotten
used to
be naked and exposed to my supervisors. But I’m NOT. I still don’t like
it at
all! However, my modesty soon became secondary as suddenly an agitated
Miss
Monica stormed through the terrace door with the big wooden spoon in
her hand
and harangued: “You bloody little liar! I knew it! You’ve been in the
house!
Saw the mess you made in the kitchen! And that means you’ve been
watching us.
Peeping on us!... Peeping on us and… playing with your tiny little
dick! That’s
what you did, huh?! O my god, that’s so DISGUSTING!” I save telling you
the
rest of her faithful tirade (it’s still ringing in my ears!) as you
already may
surmise the upshot: A deserved punishment!
It took a while until
Miss Monica had halfway calmed down. She then sat down on the broad
bench
behind the pool and placed a towel over her thighs – the thighs on
which I’d
soon be laying across…
Of course, she wanted me
to be “showered and clean” for my spanking-time, so once again I had to
wash
myself thoroughly in the open with my head blushing deep-red in shame
while
Nick was standing next to me regarding my efforts.
O, I can’t describe you
how humiliating and degrading it each time is to clean my little peenie
and
hiney in front of others, be it Madame, Miss Monica, her friends, Miss
Valery
or a teen boy like Nick who’s younger than me but much more mature and
treats
me like a toddler. Because that’s what he did when he fetched a big
towel...
and much to my dismay I felt his hands rubbing me dry all over, even my
shriveled privates and the crack between my butt cheeks! And Jesus, I
still
remember the painful remarks he made while he was working my midsection
with
the towel. “Holy shit, boy! I just can’t believe you’re really 18. Even
Billy
is more of a man than you down here!” OMG, he was comparing my peenie
to his
five year old baby brother’s!
He then took my wrist in
a tight grip and slowly guided me towards awaiting Miss Monica. I felt
like a
condemned prisoner walking on death row and was already whimpering with
fear as
Nick said: “I’m sorry, little man. But she really has to teach you some
manners. Why did you peep on us? She really doesn’t like that. No girl
likes
that. Now just try to take your punishment as a brave big boy. You can
do
it!”
The spanking was awful!
With only little help needed from strong Nick I was maneuvered across
Miss
Monica’s towel-covered thighs and just a few seconds later she smashed
the
wooden spoon on my unprotected bare hiney. “Whack!” It was the first
time I
received a punishment from Madame’s daughter and man, did she replace
her
mother and spanked me HARD! “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” She was mad. She
was furious.
And she was untiring! Of course, I did NOT take it “as a brave big
boy”.
I actually screamed,
howled and wailed like a toddler… and after her 50th terrible blow I
was
nothing but a sobbing and crying mess.
When finally being
relieved from Miss Monica’s lap, I instantly started to rub my abused
hiney,
jumping up and down like crazy with my peenie madly wiggling in front
of my supervisors.
That was SO HUMILIATING!
To make matters worse,
Miss Monica even scolded me for my “childish spanky-dance”. Saying
this, she -
not so gently - tapped my jiggling peenie with the big spoon making me
double
over and yell in pain. But
my hysterical
reaction only made her yet angrier: “For God’s sake, that was only a
playful
nudge! Now stop that crying, march into the kitchen and prepare the
lasagna
dinner for me and my man. Hush! Hush!”
I quickly turned around
to make a dash for the house … but not without getting one last
“encouraging”
slap to my hiney!
Now I ask you: Did I
really deserve such an inhumane punishment? I know my misbehavior was
fatal and
unforgivable, I understand that …but heaven, my hiney was so badly
BRUISED
after her cruel spanking. And it still is! O, I can’t describe the
burning pain
I had to suffer. It was worse than ever and it still ouchies while I’m
sitting
here writing to you! And why did she have to hit my peenie too? That
was mean!
It stung like hell!
(I’m sorry for the big
tear stains on the letter. But I couldn’t help but cry as all the
memories of
my horrible punishment flashed back. I simply had to compose myself
before
continuing…damn, I so much wish Madame allowed me to use a computer!
Miss
Monica and Miss Valery even have their own notebooks and Ipads. That’s
not
fair!)
I guess you have no
idea, how hard it was for me to do the cooking-job after this painful
incident.
It took me more than an
hour to prepare more or less decent lasagna and a mixed salad as being
ordered.
Once everything was
finally ready and the table set, I deeply bowed courtesy before Miss
Monica and
Nick and served them their evening dinner. I somehow hoped they’d allow
me some
rest now, but no way! Instead,
strict
Miss Monica, who was still quite angry, demanded me to stand straight
up, keep
quiet and act like a vigilant waiter – a vigilant but naked waiter of
course!
She even took the opportunity to check my French vocabularies as she
spoke “Garḉon,
nous choisissons une bouteille de vin rouge, une Bordeaux, s’il vous
plaĆ®t.” (frankly transferred as “We’ll have a
bottle
of red wine, please”)
My “waiter job” continued
for an excruciating long time until they were finally ready with their
dinner
and made theirselves comfortable on the big couch in the living room.
Naturally, it was my job
to tidy up the table and to do the dishes (could have been much
effortless if
Madame’s goddamn dish washer wouldn’t be defect all the time!) At
least, Miss
Monica allowed me to put on an old kitchen apron so I wasn’t like naked
as a
jailbird anymore.
It was already around
7:30 pm when I walked into the living room (still dressed in that
ridiculous
apron!) where Miss Monica and Nick were cuddling on the couch and
watching an
episode of “How met you mother” - which is by the way one of my
favorite
TV-shows! When I announced that I was ready with my kitchen work, Miss
Monica
just gave me a bored look and said “That’s fine because it’s
sleeping-time for
naughty little boys now”. I was a bit frustrated for being sent to bed
that
early, so I protested. “But that’s not fair! On Saturdays, Madame
always allows
me to stay up an hour longer and watch TV in the guest room.”
Of course, I shouldn’t
have said that as Miss Monica instantly raised her voice and fumed: “No
way!
Did you forget who’s in charge of you today? It’s me! And as you’ve
been such a
naughty boy, I’m telling you to go to bed RIGHT NOW. Is that clear?!”
Not
daring another confrontation, I quickly bowed my head in shame and
mumbled
“Yes, Miss Monica. I’m sorry.”
“And take off that silly
apron before you march down to your room!”
I don’t know if I
already told you that my bedroom is just a small, dark and sparsely
equipped
chamber in the basement with a tiny rusty window high on the wall.
That’s not
fair! Why doesn’t Madame allow me to use the big and comfortable
guest’s
bedroom upstairs?
Instead, I always have
to sleep here on this dirty old mattress placed on the tiled and cold
floor.
Oh, there’d been so many
times I’ve cried myself to sleep reviewing the past day badly suffering
from
homesick. And adding to my lonely sadness, I can always hear the
laughing
neighborhood kids who are still playing outside on the nearby street when I'm already
tucked
up in my sheets. That is so frustrating!
However, I was already lying in my uncomfortable “bed”
wrapped
in my thin blanket, when suddenly Miss Monica opened the door, holding
a urine
bottle (!) in her hand. “You’ll gonna use this if you need to pee,
cause I’m
gonna lock up your door till tomorrow. No complaining, no arguing! Got
that?”
And without waiting for an answer, she casually threw the bottle on my
mattress, slammed the door shut and locked it from outside. Christ, why
did she
do that? Even Madame never locks me up for the night as I’m always the
first
who gets up to fulfill his early-morning chores.
Fortunately, I didn’t
need the awful plastic bottle but I really had a hard time to fall
asleep as my
hiney was aching so much. I was also highly concerned about how Madame
would
react if she’ll be informed about me peeping on her daughter. You know, I once witnessed
her talking about a
lately arrested voyeur in the neighborhood and telling her daughters
how SHE
would “handle such a perv” – and that scared me to death!!!
Later that night I awoke
from a bad dream. As I was rolling around the mattress unable to fall
asleep
again, I suddenly heard far away noises emitted from upstairs which
sounded
like woman’s moans.
I first thought it was
Miss Monica but why would she make such strange noises in the middle of
the
night? Did she get hurt by something? No, it must have been the TV! I
assumed
that she and Nick were watching a cruel horror movie in which a woman
was being
tortured. How horrible! After a while, the TV-noises weren’t noticeable
anymore
and I finally dozed off.
Late next morning, at
about half past ten, Miss Monica came downstairs to unlock my door and
wake me
up (I was still asleep after this uneasy night). Much to my surprise,
she was
now like totally changed and in high spirits. Christ, I simply don’t
become
smart with this moody girl! She was actually greeting me warmly in a
sweet
rasping voice “Good morning, sleepy head. Time to wake up” and even
felt sorry
for me. “I hope your poor tushie feels a bit better now.” And when I
imploringly begged Miss Monica not to tell her mother about yesterday’s
incident, she showed sympathy, squatted down in front of me and stroked
my hair
like a caring parent. “Oh dear, poor little Peter. You really are
afraid of
her, ain’t you? Afraid of what she might do to you, if she…”
But before finishing her
sentence, she noticed my watering eyes and hugged me! Really, the same
girl that
had spanked me so hard and relentless and was so strict with me… she
now
soothingly whispered into my ear “It’s okay…don’t cry, little pumpkin.
Don’t
cry. Let’s see what we can do, hm? Maybe I keep your misbehavior as a
secret
since you already received your deserved punishment. But you have to
promise me
never to be such a naughty little boy again, will you? ”.
I instantly shook my
head yes and gave her the promise by sobbing: “I’m so sorry! I SWEAR I
will
never be a naughty boy again, Miss Monica. Never ever!”
And after I got dressed
and went into the kitchen for my breakfast, she had already set up the
table
for me, can you believe that?
The Mouse Trap
But if you now may think
that my weekend had finally turned into a happy-ending you are
absolutely
wrong! Let me tell about a very sad incident that also took place on
Sunday.
After breakfast-time, Miss Monica friendly but firmly issued my
instructions
for the day, telling me to start with cleaning the bathroom upstairs.
Before
doing this, I quickly checked the adjoining guest’s bedroom where Nick
was
supposed to sleep. Maybe Miss Monica would be happy and proud of me, if
I’d
tidy it up without request! But much to my surprise, the bed sheets
looked
totally unused and it seemed that the room hadn’t been inhabited at
all.
I concluded that Nick
must have slept somewhere else, probably on the big couch in the living
room.
While I was cleaning the
bathroom with a mop, I suddenly discovered three odd looking items
swimming in
the toilet. I first didn’t give much attention to it and just pushed
the flush.
But the mysterious items didn’t go down and kept circling on the water
surface.
That’s when I became curious and took a closer look. They looked like
little
rubber hoses. Using some toilet paper I fished one of these disgusting
looking
slimy hoses out of the basin and studied it. It was obviously filled
with water
but also contained some other, gooier stuff. I really had no idea what
these
bizarre rubber things were good for and who might have thrown them in
the
toilet. Was it Miss Monica? Giving no further thoughts about that, I
duly
concentrated on my cleaning job and discarded the mysterious items into
the
garbage can.
Later that day, shortly
after lunch, I reported my bathroom findings to Miss Monica and
politely asked
her what it was. At first, she looked puzzled and knit her brows.
“Three little
rubber hoses?
I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
But then she saw
daylight and smiled. “Oh, ok…..now I know. I guess you mean….you mean
the
little mouse traps!”
“Mouse traps?” I was
really startled now.
“Yes, those hoses you
found were used mouse traps, you little dummy! I needed them because
there’s
been some plague of mice in my room”, she explained, “for sure you knew
nothing
about it as my room is highly restricted area for you.”
I still recall her
following remarks word by word because they were SO cruel:
“These
traps are highly efficient! I tell you
how they work: The tip of the hose is filled with shred lard. And when
a
curious and hungry little mouse is sniffing the bait it crawls straight
through
the opening, trying to feast on it. Soon, the little beast is entrapped
by the
slimy rubber and then SLOOOWLY suffocates!”
I remember I was looking
at Miss Monica my eyes wide as saucers as I kept listening. “You know,
last
night when I was with Nick I captured three VERY BIG and VERY POTENT
mice. They
were all rising up against the tight rubber hose and fought a LOOONG
brave
battle until they slowly shriveled. I tell you, that was BIG FUN! After
the
critters died, I pulled them out of the traps and just threw them out
of the
window.” I was nothing but shocked! How can Miss Monica be so cruel?
After
she’d finished her detailed description of the gruesome mouse traps I
felt
tears running down my cheeks. Seeing this, Monica just smiled and left
the
room. And once she had vanished into her room, her loud laughter echoed
down
the stairs and could even be heard in the kitchen.
Please tell me: Why did
she do that?? She really must be some kind of a sadist, isn’t she? You
have to
know that I love mice so much. They are my favorite animals! I even
kept them
as pets when I was a child. Just imaging how the poor little things
were
suffering and suffocating to death makes me cry again!
How can Miss Monica be so
hard-hearted?!
It's not fair!
The magazine published response:
Dear Peter,
Thanks for writing
again. It’s cute that you want to seem grown up, so of course we’ll honor your
request to call you Peter instead of Petey. You really do not need to feel
self-conscious about it, though. Petey is a term of endearment. That means that
it’s said affectionately. Besides, you do not need to worry about it being
childish. You are still a child, after all, and that’s why you still need to be
babysat and get bathed and all that. This column is not really meant to look
for girlfriends, and most of our readers are boys anyway, but that’s OK because
as you say, you are still rather immature to worry about that. Nice try,
though!
We are glad that you are
trying to follow our advice and be obedient and behave, even if you are not
always quite successful. But it’s really the way to go. Misbehaving only gets
you spanked, as you know very well. The more mature and responsible you act,
the less you will be treated like a toddler. Be patient, though. It’s not a
matter of a few months. It takes years. For example, Miss Valery does not wash
your peenie, but trusts you to do so. She still supervises you and inspects
you, and that must be really embarrassing for you, coming as it is from a much
younger girl, but it’s still better than her doing it herself, isn’t it?
Perhaps you are trying
too hard sometimes. You need to look at the girls’ reactions when you do
something, and see what works and what doesn’t. When you do something that
pleases them, keep doing it, and when it doesn’t, quit. It seems that you find
it easier to please Miss Valery, so try to spend more time with her and doing
things for her. She is indeed a very confident and smart young lady.
I’m very concerned,
however, that you would refer to her friend Ginger as a “bitch” and a “slut”,
and talk about attacking her. This is no way to talk about a girl, no matter
whether she has piercings or not. It goes to show that you do need a lot of discipline,
so it’s no wonder that they keep you on a tight leash, so to speak. That means
that they keep you under strict control, not that they actually keep you
leashed. That’s a good thing, because it’s the way to keep you out of trouble.
You have to realize that she was only teasing you a bit, so there is no need
for you to get so upset.
I cannot support Miss
Monica calling you “stupid”, though. She is of course infinitely more mature
than you, and she is more intelligent, but to teach a child you need to be
patient and affectionate, and keep discipline for when he is not trying his
best. You were right about not challenging her, anyway. She is the one in
charge, because of her immensely superior maturity, and you need to respect her
and be obedient and submissive.
What you did, spying on
her and her boyfriend, was too bad. It’s a gross betrayal of confidence and of
their privacy. Your curiosity has to end where grownups’ privacy starts. And I
don’t care that they are younger than you. Being grown up is a matter of
maturity. I’m sorry you got spanked so hard, but you deserved to be punished. You
have to see how Nick had praised and defended you when he saw your hard work,
but that good impression was erased by your spying.
Unless your skin is
really sensitive and bruises easily, however, it would be advisable not to
spank so hard. It is not necessary to make a child like you cry and be really
sorry for his misbehavior.
On the bright side, I
have to tell you that Miss Monica was teasing you about the mouse traps. What you
saw were not traps for mouses, but articles of adult hygiene. You do not need
to worry about them, since you are way too young for them, but you do not need
to suffer: no mouse has been harmed.
A big hug to you!
INF
(The End)